Target Confirmed
by Christi Whitson
Summary: Seeley Booth is a sniper with a guilty conscience; Temperance Brennan is a scientist with a daredevil side. They are brought together in the Colombian jungle when Brennan agrees to help the Army with an identification, but the person she's identifying isn't dead... yet. Completely AU. Rated M for language and eventual smut.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey there! Yes, my name has changed, and I explained why on my profile. This story has taken me longer than anticipated. Real life has been a pain in the ass lately, but I'm hanging in there. This story is pretty different in comparison to what I've already published. It's completely AU, contains original characters, and is set well before the canon timeline. PLEASE NOTE that Brennan's backstory has been changed slightly. All will be revealed in due time, but this Brennan has a little more tact and a lot more nerve. Booth's history is the same, but I did have to play with the timeline a little to get them in the same place at the same time.**

 **Hope you enjoy!**

 **One time disclaimer - I don't own Booth or Brennan, obviously. But every other character in this story is my own creation.**

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 _Pasto, Colombia_

 _1998_

Chapter 1

Dr. Temperance Brennan gazed with interest through the tiny airplane window next to her seat. Her flight from Chiclayo, Peru had been fairly short, and she had spent the majority of it chatting with the Peruvian man who was seated next to her. Her Spanish fluency eliminated any language barrier, but while the man had asked the reason for her travels, Brennan suspected that he hadn't been truly interested in her answer. His eyes had glazed over a bit as she'd explained her work in the ancient tombs of Sipán. Perhaps it had been his lack of genuine interest that had discouraged him from asking the obvious follow-up question: why was she traveling to Colombia?

The city of Pasto was moderate in size and somewhat lackluster in appearance. The surrounding natural beauty, however, was another story entirely. The city was nestled in the shadow of Galeras, the most active volcano in Colombia. Its last eruption five years ago had taken the lives of nine people. The peak was hidden in cloud cover, but that didn't make the sight any less majestic.

The plane landed with a bump and eventually came to a stop at the small terminal. Brennan pulled her bag from the overhead compartment before following her flight companions from the jet. The terminal bustled with activity, and Brennan's eyes scanned the crowd for a sign of the military escort she'd been promised. To her surprise, the man who approached her was of South American descent, and he was dressed in civilian clothing.

"Dr. Brennan?" the stranger asked cautiously. He hadn't been expecting someone so young.

"Yes," she replied, extending her hand. He shook it politely, and they each took a brief moment to scrutinize the other. If she hadn't heard him speak, Brennan would have assumed he was native to the area. "I assume they sent you because your Brazilian heritage helps you to blend in. Would you prefer to converse in Spanish?"

"Uh," he blinked in surprise at her formal speech as well as her accuracy. "English is fine, ma'am. I'm Staff Sergeant Alejandro Santana, but you can just call me Santana."

"Dr. Temperance Brennan. You may address me by my surname as well." She typically insisted upon the use of her title, but since she was entrusting her safety to this man and his comrades, she thought encouraging a bit of familiarity might be beneficial.

Santana nodded and gestured toward the exit. She followed him from the terminal to the parking lot, doing her best to look as inconspicuous as he did. Brennan had never really been one to 'blend in,' however, and today was no exception. She was obviously of a different race than the majority of the people around her, and she was a physically attractive young woman as well. Brennan turned heads whether she wanted to or not.

They climbed into a car that looked as ordinary as the rest of the vehicles in the lot, and Brennan wondered idly how the soldier had come by it. The interior had an odd smell, but it dissipated when the windows were rolled down. She watched the small city of Pasto glide by as they drove through it. Most of the buildings looked neglected but still warm somehow with the afternoon sun hitting the rooftops.

Santana drove southwest, skirting Galeras and leaving the heavier traffic behind them. Brennan watched him for a few minutes, studying his movements in a way that had become something of a ritual for her. He seemed to sense her scrutiny and glanced at her curiously.

"Is something wrong?" he asked awkwardly.

"No…?" The word sounded more like a question than an answer, and Brennan seemed genuinely confused as to why he'd asked her that. Santana felt even more wrong-footed and tried to come up with something to fill the silence.

"How did you know I'm Brazilian?" He was truly interested in hearing her answer; most Americans tended to use 'Hispanic' and 'Mexican' interchangeably.

"Your bone structure," Brennan replied simply, shrugging as though it should have been obvious. "I'm surprised the Army let you stay active with a sniper unit after your fingers were broken so badly," she added.

Santana's head snapped toward her in shock, before his eyes went to the place where his hands curved around the steering wheel. He flexed his fingers a little, looking at them critically. The fractures had healed, and his fingers didn't appear misshapen, at least in his opinion. He still had decent range of motion, even if it had taken him a lot of physical therapy to get it back.

"I mostly act as a spotter now, but I can still shoot," Santana replied, a little uncomfortable. "How can you tell?"

"Your movements are those of someone who has adapted to chronic pain, particularly in your distal phalanges and metacarpals. For that many of the bones in both hands to have been injured at the same time, I would deduce that you were either in a very bad accident which crushed both of your hands… or you were tortured." The tone of her voice was methodical and pedantic until the last few words. Brennan glanced at his face apologetically, but he was avoiding her eyes.

After a few moments, it became clear that Santana wasn't going to reply, and Brennan sighed inwardly at her seemingly involuntary tendency to offend people. She'd never been much good in social situations. She could read skeletal structure, spot kinetic markers, and see far more than the average person when she looked at another human being. When it came to body language and facial expressions, however, she was lost.

Brennan turned her attention back to their surroundings. They had moved out of the city limits, and the scenery had changed from quaint sun-lit buildings to the deep greens and browns of a jungle that seemed to grow more wild with every mile. She knew that the Nariño region was made up primarily of thick, uninhabited jungle, and they had long since passed any landmark she might have recognized.

This would be her first visit to Colombia, and although Brennan was familiar with its anthropological history, she didn't know much about the current state of things. She'd researched a little when the Army had approached her with their request, but the history of the current conflict went back to the 1940s. She hadn't had time to delve into it too deeply, but the potential danger was clear to her. That, in itself, was part of the reason she'd agreed to come.

At first, Brennan had been irritated by the appearance of an Army intelligence officer at the site of the Peruvian dig she'd been working. Apparently, the CIA had given her a glowing recommendation, and now the Army wanted her help. Ever since Brennan had identified some remains for the State Department, various government agencies had been seeking her expertise. She liked to help whenever possible, but it would be a lie to say that her motives were completely selfless.

The car came to a rough and sudden stop, effectively pulling Brennan from her thoughts. They had been traveling a fairly deserted highway, but at some point, Santana had pulled onto a dirt road. The narrow lane ended abruptly in the forest, and there were no signs of civilization in sight.

"We'll be walking the rest of the way," Santana told her as he climbed out of the car. "It's a mile or so into the jungle. Hope that's okay?"

 _Doesn't look like there's much choice,_ she thought with a sardonic smile. She kept her sarcasm to herself, however, and grabbed her bag from the floorboard. Santana camouflaged the car with a few fallen branches before pulling a handheld GPS from his backpack.

"We shouldn't run into any trouble in this area, but I'd rather keep conversation to a minimum just to be safe."

Brennan nodded and fell into step behind him. As they moved through the trees and undergrowth, Santana glanced back at her frequently to make sure she was keeping up. He was initially surprised to see that she moved through the jungle with relative ease, but then he admonished himself slightly. It was already quite clear that Dr. Temperance Brennan was nothing _but_ surprising.

Santana's eyes panned wide in each direction as they trekked through the foliage, but his mind was on the woman who accompanied him. He was absolutely certain that the men in his unit, particularly the CO, were expecting someone completely different than this… _girl_. He didn't know her actual age, nor was he brave enough to ask, but he guessed that she was in her early twenties at most. She supposedly had three doctorates though, so perhaps he was wrong in his assessment. Either way, the girl had to be a genius, and she was good looking too. If he were interested in women, he was sure that he'd have spent most of the drive flirting rather than in awkward silence. His unit was in for a shock, and the thought brought a smirk to Santana's face.

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As Brennan and Santana neared the unit's small campsite, the various noises of jungle wildlife quieted gradually. The camp consisted of four two-man tents, a larger tent used for briefings and communication, and a makeshift latrine area. Santana skipped the tour, however, and led her straight to the largest tent.

When they stepped inside the canvas structure, Brennan realized that they had probably interrupted a conversation between its occupants. The two men stood simultaneously to greet her, but it was clear from their expressions that they had indeed been expecting someone quite different. The taller of the two soldiers extended his hand toward Brennan.

"Major Samuel Jackson, ma'am. _You're_ Dr. Brennan?" he asked, not even attempting to mask his incredulity. Jackson was a black man who looked to be in his late thirties. His features were fairly attractive, but his demeanor and expression made him seem a bit austere. He had a pleasant smile, but it was rarely seen by anyone other than his wife and children.

"Yes," Brennan nodded, shaking the man's hand. "Staff Sergeant Santana seemed skeptical of my identity as well." Her brow wrinkled slightly in consternation.

"That's because they only gave us your name, darlin'," the second man said genially as he stepped forward to shake her hand as well. He had sandy blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes, and although he was not particularly handsome, his generous smile and warm personality made Brennan feel welcome. "Captain Pete Walker. We were expecting someone older and… well, _male_."

"You thought I'd be a man?" she asked, torn between annoyance and amusement. It certainly wasn't the first time that she'd received this kind of reaction over her age, but the implied misogyny irritated her a little.

"Yes," Jackson frowned. "I can't imagine what the colonel was thinking sending a woman into a place like this. It's very dangerous for any civilian, but-"

"I assure you that I can take care of myself perfectly well, Major. And it's certainly not my first experience with a hostile territory." Jackson gazed back at her speculatively for a moment before glancing behind her to Santana.

"Go check in with Booth," he ordered. When Santana had disappeared, Jackson turned his attention back to her. "Do you understand what's going on and why you're here? Were you informed of the risks?"

Walker returned to his seat and observed them quietly, watching the young woman cross her arms somewhat indignantly.

"I don't make a habit of doing things without understanding the motives as well as the consequences."

"What information were you given?" Jackson persisted.

"I was told that a terrorist is believed to have fabricated his own demise several years ago and that it's possible he has changed his appearance with plastic surgery. My expertise was requested for the purpose of confirming the man's true identity." Jackson had rolled his eyes and was now scowling at the ground in disapproval, but she ignored his response for the moment. "Where are we exactly?"

"We're in the Nariño region," Jackson replied, confirming her earlier assumption. "The nearest settlement is Barbacaos, but the guy we're tracking moves his operation frequently. Where we are isn't what's important right now, though. I need to know that you truly understand what you've walked into here, Dr. Brennan. Calling Diego Ramirez a terrorist is accurate, but not necessarily in the way people usually think of terrorism. But first thing's first. Do you think you can recognize him even if he has a different face?"

"That will depend on a few things," Brennan smirked, recognizing his skepticism.

"Like what?"

"Like what I have to work with. The officer who approached me in Peru had old photographs of Ramirez and asked me to compare them to more recent images of a man known as Juan Luis Moreno. The image quality was poor, and I couldn't be completely certain that it was the same man. He mentioned that you might have new video footage…?"

"We're working on that," Jackson nodded. "We have video of Ramirez from about four years ago, but no new footage of Moreno to use as comparison."

"Which is why they sent me here to observe the man in person," she replied with a slight shrug. "What makes the US government, or the Colombian one for that matter, believe that Ramirez and Moreno are actually the same man?"

"We have our reasons. Your clearance level only gets you so far, Doctor," Jackson hedged. Brennan huffed a little and crossed her arms again.

"If you want my help, then there are things I need to know."

"Such as?"

"Such as what this man did to get the attention of the US government in the first place. It's obvious what you intend to do with the information I provide, and if I'm going to have a hand in a man's death, then I'd like to know what he did to deserve it."

As she spoke, the irritation in her voice gradually increased, and Jackson looked at Brennan as though he didn't quite know what to make of her. Her pale blue eyes were narrowed in frustration, and her stance reminded him of an angry kitten. Walker chuckled under his breath at her feistiness, and the sound distracted her momentarily.

"What's funny?" she asked irritably. Walker was smiling as he shook his head.

"Your scruples are admirable, Dr. Brennan, but they're somewhat out of place here. How much do you know about the current state of affairs in Colombia?"

"I have a general idea, but there wasn't time to research the situation in detail. I was informed that my assistance was required as soon as possible."

"That's certainly the truth," Walker nodded. "Colombia has been entrenched in civil warfare for the past five decades. It began as a matter of political differences for the most part, and the US became involved as part of the fight against communism. Now, however, our motives have more to do with the drug war…"

Brennan listened attentively as Captain Walker described the fighting between the conservative Colombian government, the various paramilitaristic groups, and the liberal guerrillas. The guerrillas had risen up in opposition to conservative government politics, and the government had responded by forming right-wing paramilitaristic groups to neutralize the violence of the guerrillas. Things had gotten out of hand rather quickly. The right-wing groups were soon responsible for the majority of the political murders and human rights violations in Colombia, and the government eventually outlawed them.

"Four years ago," Jackson interjected, "the Colombian government authorized the creation of _legal_ paramilitary groups, and most of the illegal ones converted, so to speak, agreeing to follow the government's rules. The biggest of these is the AUC. They primarily fight the bigger liberal guerrillas: the FARC and the ELN."

"The problem, of course, is that there are no 'good guys' or 'bad guys' in this mess," Walker added. "No one's tactics are clean and humane. The liberals may have started the trouble, but the conservatives have fought just as dirty, whether legally or _il_ legally. Both sides have engaged in terrorism, drug production and trafficking, murder, kidnapping, extortion, use of landmines, human trafficking… Everyone makes passive attempts at peace, but nothing real ever comes of it. No one can agree on anything, and everyone plays dirty."

"And Ramirez?" Brennan pressed, well aware that they weren't telling her anything she couldn't have learned for herself. Jackson hesitated, seeming to choose his next words carefully.

"He's a drug lord with ties to the AUC. He's terrorized Colombian citizens, kidnapped numerous people and either ransomed them or sold them… There's nothing 'good' about him, but he keeps his illegal activities well under the radar, which means the Colombian government has its hands tied. Ramirez has made threats on the lives of certain high-profile Americans, so we were asked to step in."

"Ramirez has been responsible for the deaths of hundreds of civilians, Doc," Walker said seriously. "Not to mention those who die from the drugs he exports to the US and other countries. If you can help us take him out, you'll be doing the world a favor."

Brennan sighed, digesting the information they'd given her for a few moments. She realized that Jackson had probably told her a little more than she was actually permitted to know, and she appreciated his trust and his effort. She did feel less guilty about potentially contributing to the death of another human being. It was something she'd been struggling with a little, especially since her work had always involved identifying those who were already dead.

Before she could think of what to say to Walker in response, however, the canvas tent flap was pushed aside once more, and two men entered the tent. One was Santana, and the other was a tall, dark-haired man. He had broad shoulders that were emphasized by his fatigues, and his jaw bore two days worth of growth.

Brennan felt her insides clench as she got a good look at his face. In her field of expertise, she spent a lot of time studying bone structure and drawing conclusion from various physical features. At the moment, however, she couldn't recall ever being so captivated by a man's face. The angle of his mandible was strong, and his zygomatic bones protruded just enough to create dimples in his cheeks when he smiled. His dark brown eyes were fixed upon her, and his startled expression seemed to indicate that he might also have been under the impression that she was supposed to be something other than a twenty-two year old woman.

"Dr. Brennan, this is Master Sergeant Seeley Booth," Jackson explained. "Booth, this is Dr. Temperance Brennan. She's here to confirm the ID on Ramirez." Booth and Brennan shook hands a bit longer than really necessary, and their eyes remained locked on one another.

Booth felt a ridiculous urge to shake his head as though that might clear the haze that had settled upon him. He'd been startled to see a woman in the camp at all. Like the others, he'd been under the mistaken impression that 'Dr. Brennan' would be a man, and probably an older man at that. The beautiful woman still gazing back at him looked far too young and innocent to be in a place like this.

His body had responded immediately to her presence. Her brown hair was swept up into a messy bun at the back of her head, and he wondered how long it would be if she let it down. Booth liked that it was out of the way for the moment, however, because it meant that his view of her face was completely unobstructed.

Her features were delicate and classically beautiful, but there was something in the set of her chin that made him wonder if she were truly as fragile as she seemed. Her eyes were the most compelling shade of blue he'd ever seen, and although he knew he'd been staring at her for longer than he should, he couldn't seem to look away. It wasn't until someone cleared their throat that the spell was broken, and they both looked away simultaneously.

"It's nice to meet you," Brennan said a little breathlessly, stepping backward to increase the distance between them. She felt the heat flood her cheeks and inwardly cursed her pale skin.

"Likewise," Booth grinned. Her blush was so charming that he immediately wanted to see more of it. "So you really think you can do this?" His tone was a bit more sarcastic than he'd intended, but the playful gleam in her eye told him that she wasn't offended by it.

"If we have pictures and video of sufficient quality, then it should be a simple matter of matching kinetic markers and underlying bone structure. Even if the facial bones were altered, there are certain things that a person can't hide."

"What sorts of 'things?'" Booth asked, still smirking.

Brennan allowed her eyes to move slowly down his body and back up again before calmly beckoning him toward her. She watched as he stepped closer, doing her best to ignore her body's reaction to his proximity. She felt nervous in a giddy sort of way, and when he'd come to a stop less than a foot away, her skin tingled a bit. Booth quirked an eyebrow, still awaiting her response.

"Things such as… Repetitive injuries to the shoulders, like strains. Possibly from childhood. A left knee injury, probably in adolescence… And much more recent trauma to bones in the feet, probably occurring within the past year or so and still causing chronic pain." As she spoke, her eyes moved to each part of his body, and her features softened when her gaze reached his feet. The age of the trauma made her wonder if Booth and Santana had been injured in the same incident.

Booth was flummoxed, and the two officers wore matching expressions of amazement. Only Santana seemed unfazed by Brennan's pronouncement, and he shrugged when Booth glanced at him.

"Sarge, she watched me drive for only a couple minutes and could tell _which parts_ of my fingers had been broken and how long ago," Santana chuckled. Booth looked back at her with a new kind of respect in his eyes.

"Beautiful _and_ a genius," he decreed. His mood fell slightly as he realized that Brennan was so far out of his league, but that didn't stop his patented charm smile from making an appearance. It grew wider when he saw the blush color her cheeks once again.

Brennan opened her mouth to thank him for the compliment, but she was interrupted by the sound of a long, low whistle from the tent entrance. Another soldier strutted into the tent and eyed Brennan appreciatively. He was tall and lanky, with auburn hair and dark green eyes.

"I didn't know we could order call girls in the jungle," the man grinned. Brennan's expression tightened, and Booth scowled at the newcomer.

"Show some respect, Lieutenant," Jackson commanded sternly. "Dr. Brennan, this is Lieutenant Morris, and he _will_ remember his manners in the future." Brennan nodded at Morris curtly and did not offer to shake his hand.

Morris didn't look even remotely apologetic, and his eyes continued to wander over her body as the introductions were made. Booth instinctively moved to stand between them, effectively blocking her from his gaze.

"Where's Leeds?" Walker asked.

"Scouting the perimeter, Sir," Morris replied. "He should be back soon."

"That'll be all for now then," Jackson announced. "You're all dismissed."

"Sir, I'd be happy to show the good doctor to her tent," Morris volunteered, sending a wolfish smile toward Brennan. Jackson glowered at him.

"I'll handle it, Morris. You're dismissed."

As the men filed out, Brennan's eyes gravitated toward Booth again. He gave her another panty-dropping smile before disappearing from sight. She was alone with Major Jackson now, and when she turned to face him, his expression was a little contrite.

"I apologize for Lieutenant Morris' lack of respect, Dr. Brennan. If you have any trouble with him or any of my men, please don't hesitate to come to me. Your safety is top priority while you're here with us," he assured her. "As such, I'll be requiring at least one of my men to be with you at all times."

"Major, that's truly unnecessary," Brennan insisted. Arguing her own self-sufficiency was a knee-jerk reaction, but she also didn't like the idea of being alone with Lieutenant Morris. "I assure you that I'm perfectly capable of looking after my own safety."

"Have you been to Colombia before?"

"No, but as I stated previously, I have been in hostile territories before. I'm a good shot, and I know how to defend myself in hand-to-hand combat."

"Nevertheless, you will obey my orders, Dr. Brennan," Jackson replied sharply. "I know we need you, but if you don't follow the rules, you could put my men in danger." His words brought her up short and took the heat out of her stubbornness.

"Alright," she nodded reluctantly. Brennan had mixed feelings about the arrangement. On the one hand, she preferred that Morris keep his distance; on the other, she couldn't help but look forward to spending some time with Booth.

Jackson led her out of the command tent and gave her a quick tour of the campsite. The men were doubled up in the sleeping arrangements, but she had a tent of her own. Jackson explained that they were using a sheltered portion of a nearby stream for bathing and washing. There was no campfire because the smell might alert someone to their position, and since they couldn't cook, they were living off MREs. Brennan grimaced at the mention of the foul-tasting food rations. When they reached the tent that had been reserved for her, she thanked him for his help. He began to walk away, but paused as he remembered something from their earlier conversation.

"Dr. Brennan," Jackson said. She turned back toward him. "You said that your ability to confirm the ID would depend on a _few_ things. The images we have and…?" She inclined her head, and her expression tensed slightly.

"How close you can get me to the target."

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 **Well? :) Do you want more? I haven't decided on an update schedule for this yet, but I'm currently writing the final chapter. Reviews might persuade me to update faster... ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you so much for the awesome feedback everyone! I'm eager to hear what you think of my changes to Brennan's story once you've gotten through this chapter, so don't be shy. :)**

 **Someone asked about Rebecca, and I replied privately, but I'll go ahead and say it for everyone - There is no Rebecca in this reality.**

 **Enjoy!**

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Chapter 2

 _Previously..._

" _Dr. Brennan," Jackson said. She turned back toward him. "You said that your ability to confirm the ID would depend on a few things. The images we have and…?" She inclined her head, and her expression tensed slightly._

" _How close you can get me to the target."_

Major Jackson frowned at Brennan's response but didn't stop her when she disappeared into her tent. As Brennan began to sort through her belongings and the supplies she'd been given, she thought back to the way she'd fallen into this situation. Could she have possibly made a confident identification without actually seeing Ramirez in person? Without something to compare it to, the old video footage they'd shown her in Peru had been of no use to her. The photographic evidence had been compelling, but Brennan preferred to be as certain as humanly possible, especially when her findings would ultimately decide a man's fate.

 _No_ , she told herself. Until she could analyze the man's movements after his alleged alterations, there was no way to be sure. And the fastest way of accomplishing that was to get a look at the man in person. Sure, she could have waited safely in Peru while the Army obtained new video and sent it to her for analysis and comparison, but by the time she could give them an answer one way or another, the opportunity to eliminate the target might have passed. _It had to be this way_. Brennan's self-assurances didn't completely erase the twinge of guilt she felt for her somewhat ulterior motives. This mission was a worthy cause, but it wasn't the only reason she'd agreed to help. The opportunity to lend a hand in a particularly dangerous situation was just the sort of thing she enjoyed. There was an undeniably potent _rush_ that came with taking risks.

She still remembered the first time she'd felt it. At thirteen, when her brother had died, she had lost everything. She'd been in the foster care system for nearly five years at that point. She and Russ had been separated almost from the beginning, but at least she'd always known that she'd had someone out there who had loved her. She had clung fiercely to the belief that when he turned eighteen she would finally be free.

Russ's untimely death had devastated her. Her hopes of being reunited as a family had been ruined, and an odd sort of numbness had consumed her. Although she'd kept her grades up, she'd no longer felt the same passion for learning that had once been the driving force in her life. Everything around her had reminded her of what she'd lost. Even the physical abuse she'd suffered at the hands of her foster family hadn't penetrated the fog of apathy in her mind.

The first spark of change had found her unexpectedly. She'd stumbled upon a group of students in an otherwise deserted hallway of her high school one afternoon, and it had been clear almost immediately that they were harassing a fellow classmate. Their victim had been a thin, pimple-faced boy who had stood a good head shorter than the broad-shouldered athletes who had surrounded him. Though Brennan had been only slightly taller than the boy, something had compelled her to push through the circle of bullies and stand next to him. They had laughed and called her a freak, but five years in the system had given her a thick skin. It wasn't until one of them actually pushed her backward into the wall that she'd felt it.

 _Adrenaline._

Her vision had sharpened, her breathing had accelerated, and before she'd even considered the consequences, her fist had connected with the bully's jaw. The teen had been too shocked to retaliate quickly. Fortunately for Brennan, a teacher had spotted the group and had witnessed enough of the incident to know that Brennan had been provoked. She hadn't gotten into trouble with the school, but even if she had, she felt it would have been worth it. It was the first time since her brother's death that she'd felt truly alive.

Brennan had known enough about biology to understand what had happened, and from that point onward, she'd made conscious decisions to take unnecessary risks. High school and foster homes had provided channels for various stunts, whether it was taking the heat for a foster sibling or stepping in to defend another bullied student. When those channels were no longer available, Brennan had taken up new hobbies that fed her need, involving herself in things like martial arts and extreme sports. She'd been called crazy and reckless on more than one occasion.

Brennan's mind drifted involuntarily to Seeley Booth and the unexpected physical reaction she'd experienced. _What on earth was that about?_ she wondered distractedly. She'd never experienced anything like it. Clearly, there was a physical attraction between them, and she suspected that he'd felt it as well. It wasn't the first time she'd found a man attractive, but it was certainly the first time she'd had such a visceral reaction to one. She'd always been too absorbed in her academics or her hobbies to notice a man that way, but Booth was different.

He clearly had an alpha-male personality, and she was actually surprised at how appealing it was to her. When he'd placed himself between her and Lieutenant Morris, she'd had an instantaneous sensation of safety and gratitude. What had happened to her self-sufficient feminism? If any other man had done something like that, she'd have given him a lecture. But the fact that it had been Booth had left her feeling like a swoony teenager.

Brennan scowled at the illogical turn her thoughts had taken and rose to her feet. When she emerged from her tent, she noticed that a few logs had been pulled into a circle to provide seats. If there had been a fire in the center, it might have looked like a typical campsite as opposed to what it actually was.

Most of the logs were occupied by soldiers, and she recognized Booth, Santana and Morris. A fourth man was seated next to Morris, and he introduced himself as Corporal Leeds. She could tell that he would tower over her if he were standing, and his exaggerated musculature hinted at the possibility of pharmaceutical enhancements. Leeds was very good looking, and he seemed all too aware of the fact. His gray eyes sparkled with confidence, but a few minutes in his company proved that he was even less of a gentleman than Morris.

"You know, it can get pretty cold at night," Leeds said, leering at her with a wide grin. "There's always room in my sleeping bag if you need to warm up." Morris joined in as Leeds laughed at his own joke.

"She could always sleep between us in the tent. I'm sure between the three of us we could produce enough heat to make it feel like a sauna. I don't mind sharing pussy once in a while."

"That's enough!" Booth growled.

"I'll second that," Santana added in disgust.

"Aw, don't worry, guys," Leeds sneered. "You two can have her afterward."

"The only thing you and Morris will be sharing between the two of you is the clap," Brennan snarled. Booth and Santana chuckled appreciatively, and she sank onto the log next to Booth. Before either Leeds or Morris could retaliate, Major Jackson appeared behind them. He didn't look happy.

"Lieutenant, I believe you've already been reprimanded for your lack of respect toward our guest. And Corporal Leeds, I suggest you adjust your behavior as well. I won't tolerate it; is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," they muttered in unison.

"Good. Perimeter sweep, both of you," Jackson ordered, ignoring the fact that Leeds had just returned from his turn on watch. They were wise enough to keep their remarks to themselves, and the atmosphere relaxed considerably once they had gone. Jackson gave Brennan another apologetic smile and grabbed an MRE before heading back to the command tent. Booth handed one to Brennan as well, and she took it with a reluctant smile.

"I'm guessing from the look on your face that you already know how awful it tastes," Booth laughed quietly.

"Yes," she nodded, returning his warm smile. "Another reason to get the job done quickly, I suppose."

"Exactly how many reasons are there? Don't let Vanity and PITA scare you away. They're mostly talk."

" _Vanity and PITA?"_ she echoed curiously, distracted by the odd names.

"Yeah, everyone's got a nickname. Leeds is Vanity. You know, like the smurf? Because he can't seem to get enough of his own reflection and the sound of his own voice." Brennan laughed at the accuracy of his description, and Booth felt his breath catch at the sound of it. He wanted to hear it again.

"And PITA?"

"Well, the military is all about acronyms, right? And Morris is a top grade Pain In The Ass."

"I agree," she nodded, still smiling widely. "What about you?"

"Usually it's just Sarge. My grandfather calls me Shrimp though," Booth offered, hoping to hear her laugh again, even if it was at his expense. He wasn't disappointed. "The Major is really the only one here without a nickname. He doesn't go for that sort of thing."

"What's yours then?" Brennan asked Santana.

"Streak," he replied begrudgingly. "Don't ask."

"Oh, come on, that's a great story." Booth insisted. "The first assignment we had together was an operation based out of Iraq, and one of the other guys we were stationed with got into this big practical joke feud with Santana. Army guys are all about the one-up, so the pranks just got bigger every time, you know? The best one, though, was when our buddy took off with Santana's clothes and towel while he was in the showers. He had to sprint across the base butt naked and dripping wet to get back to the barracks. He's been Streak ever since." Santana gave a good-natured chuckle as Booth and Brennan bonded over his embarrassment.

"At least no one who saw me that day called me 'Shrimp,' right Booth?"

"Touché," his friend snorted. "Walker's nickname is probably the worst though, as far as humiliation goes."

"What is it?" Brennan asked.

"Shrink Wrap." When her brow furrowed in confusion, he explained the story behind it, which Walker now regretted having shared with his unit. He had scheduled his R&R as a surprise for his wife, and she had been thrilled to see him. He hadn't remembered condoms, however, and his wife hadn't expected to need any. In a moment of sex-crazed insanity, they had theorized that plastic wrap should work well enough just that one time.

"And did it?" she asked curiously.

"Nah, his wife's six months pregnant with kid number three." They all shared a laugh at Walker's expense and nibbled at their food rations. Santana finished his portion and disappeared into the tent he shared with Booth, leaving the two of them alone. "Walker said you flew in from Peru? Or was that just a stop along the way?"

"I was there for work," Brennan replied. "My assistance was requested in a study of the ancient tombs of Sipán, and I'd just finished working with some remains discovered in the Lauricocha caves…"

Booth did his best to follow her thorough explanation of native South American tribes and their burial practices, but he found himself getting lost in her. She was eager and expressive as she spoke, often using her hands to illustrate her point. Her eyes were bright with interest, and he could hear the passion in her voice. He didn't follow half of what she said, but the love she felt for her job was obvious.

"Do you mind if I ask how old you are?" he said cautiously. She looked young, but she spoke like someone much older. Brennan smiled at his hesitation.

"Twenty-two."

"Wow," Booth replied, his eyes widening. He attempted to do the math in his head, and his confusion must have shown on his face because she chuckled at his expression.

"I skipped two grades when I was younger, so I graduated high school when I was sixteen," Brennan explained." I finished my undergrad work by eighteen and my first doctorate by twenty. I'm almost twenty-three now, and I've spent most of my time out of school traveling and lending a hand in various places."

"What do you mean by 'lend a hand?'"

"Sometimes it's archaeological digs where human skeletal remains have been discovered. Other times, I've been asked to help the US or other governments in identifying remains that are too decomposed or too macerated for traditional methods." Booth turned a little green at the image her words conveyed, but her tone remained neutral and untroubled. "This is the first time I've ever been asked to give an ID for someone still alive, but I think it's definitely possible."

"And you do that by studying bone structure?"

"And kinesiology, yes."

"Well, that's it then," Booth grinned.

"What's 'it?'"

"Your nickname. _Bones_. It's perfect."

Like Major Jackson, Brennan wasn't typically one for nicknames, but as she watched the smile light up his handsome features, she couldn't find the will to refuse him. She also recognized that it was a means of acceptance into the group, a show of camaraderie. So she smiled back and was surprised to feel the heat in her cheeks again.

"Thanks, Booth," she said softly. They went back to their neglected dinner and ate in silence for a few moments before Booth spoke again. Something had been bothering him since he'd first realized the implications of her presence.

"Are you afraid to be in Colombia right now? Things aren't exactly peaceful."

"No," she replied, smiling as she shook her head. "It's not my first time in a dangerous place… And besides, the sooner I can confirm the ID, the sooner I can be on my way." Her smile fell a little as she said the words. Booth was frowning, both in concern at the thought of her being in danger and in disappointment that she could be leaving so soon.

He went to bed that night with his head full of her. Between Santana's snores, the nighttime sounds of jungle wildlife, and his own bad dreams, Booth hadn't had much hope for a solid night's sleep anyway. But that night, his mind simply refused to let him rest. He was somewhat surprised by his intense reaction to her. She wasn't his usual 'type,' if there even were such a thing. He'd spent most of his academic and military careers chasing perky blondes whose goals had been things like winning Prom Queen or pledging a sorority.

After meeting Dr. Temperance Brennan, he wondered if perhaps he should have spent his college years trying to pick up girls in the library rather than the athletic complex. She was beautiful in a classic way, like the women who had played lead roles in the old movies he'd grown up watching with his grandparents. She moved with an unexpected grace, and she had 'moxie.' However, his attraction to her went far beyond the physical.

Being in her presence was like watching the sunrise after spending years in perpetual darkness. She was brilliant, a certified genius most likely, and on top of all of that, she was courageous. She had willingly placed herself in the middle of a very dangerous situation with seemingly little regard for her own safety.

That thought made Booth frown again. What _was_ she doing there? As grateful as Booth felt to have met her, he was sure that there must have been a safer alternative to bringing a civilian into sniper unit. A _female_ civilian, at that. Even if they could accomplish the ID quickly and get her out of the country again, it was still incredibly risky. He decided to bring it up with her the next morning...

When at last his brain had exhausted itself beyond coherency, Booth drifted to a peaceful slumber. His dreams were dominated by her clear blue eyes and soft smile.

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When Brennan emerged from her tent the next morning, she was greeted by the friendly smile of Captain Walker. He tossed her a breakfast ration and informed her that Booth, Santana, Morris, and Leeds were out scouting the area. Walker also suggested that she take the opportunity to bathe in the river while most of the men were away from camp. Brennan thanked him and retrieved the necessary personal items before following his advice.

She stripped down to her bra and panties, washing as quickly as possible in the cool water. Although most of the area was forest and jungle, the average temperature hovered in the mid-70s almost year-round. Her teeth chattered a little in the cool morning air, but she felt appreciative of the opportunity to wash. Brennan was nearly finished when she felt a tingle on the back of her neck, as though she were no longer alone. She scanned the area for signs of movement, but she saw nothing of concern. She shook off the unpleasant feeling and gathered her things to head back to her tent.

Through the trees across the river, Booth stood as though paralyzed, feeling slightly ashamed for having watched her. The sight of her nearly-naked form had rendered him incapable of looking away. A movement to his left alerted him to the presence of his spotter, but still, his eyes remained fixed on Brennan as she dressed.

"You okay?" Santana asked. He followed Booth's gaze across the river and spotted a now-clothed Brennan retreating with wet hair. "Oh, come on," Santana chortled. "You know she's way too smart for you."

Booth rolled his eyes and muttered a weak response, inwardly agreeing with his friend's words. What would she want with someone like him? He was a trained killer, and before her time with his unit was up, he would most likely be pulling that trigger yet again. What woman would ever want to be with someone like that? _Certainly not someone as brilliant and incredible as her…_ Booth continued to mope as he and Santana made their way back to the camp. If Santana picked up on the change in his mood, he didn't say anything.

Everyone, including Brennan, gathered in the command tent for a briefing. They didn't seem to have assigned seats, so Brennan waited until both Leeds and Morris had sat down before taking a seat as far away from them as possible. Jackson asked for reports from the scouts first. Neither Booth nor Santana had seen anything of concern in the woods that morning, but the other team had approached the insurgents' camp on their rounds.

"They're packing up to relocate, sir," Morris reported. "It'll probably still take them a few hours to get everything ready to move, but all of the structures were being disassembled."

"Did you get any photos?" Jackson asked, holding out a hand to accept the digital camera Leeds had been carrying.

"Just a few of the campsite. Ramirez stayed hidden, as usual."

"Moreno," Brennan corrected. Every eye in the tent moved to rest upon her, but she didn't balk. "Until I confirm that this man _is_ , in fact, Diego Ramirez, you should call him Moreno." Leeds looked like he had a sarcastic remark he would very much like to throw back at her, but Jackson spoke first.

"I want everyone packed up and ready to move in an hour."

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 **Reviews keep me inspired, so don't hold back. What do you think about Brennan being an adrenaline junkie? Personally, I don't think it's much of a stretch.**

 **More to come. :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**So, I suck... I posted two chapters of this without acknowledging my very special, super helpful, awesomely fantastic beta. Chosenname never fails to come through for me with the proofreading, giving her feedback on plot or characterization, or just listening to me ramble while I talk through my own ideas. Thank you so much, lady! You're the best!**

 **Thank you for the reviews likes! You guys sure know how to make a girl feel appreciated. :)**

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Chapter 3

The unit moved for several hours through the dense forest, tracking the movements of Moreno and his men. It was a challenge to follow closely enough not to lose them and yet maintain enough distance that the enemy remained unaware of their presence. The unit kept as silent as possible, using hand signals to communicate when necessary.

Brennan had been loaned a set of fatigues so that she blended as well as the rest of them. Her pants were cuffed at both the top and bottom, and the jacket swamped her small frame. Booth had failed to hide his smile when she'd emerged from her tent in her borrowed clothing. She reminded him of a child playing dress-up. Unfortunately, she'd caught sight of his grin and had landed an impressive punch to his bicep. It still ached a bit when he moved, but his lips curved upward every time he felt it.

Jackson took the lead, followed by Walker, Morris, Booth, Brennan, and Santana. Leeds brought up the rear as the lowest ranking man, and Brennan was grateful that Santana was blocking his view of _her_ rear. After about an hour of walking, Brennan realized that she'd instinctively kept as near to Booth as possible as they moved through the jungle in single file. Although she was enjoying the excitement and the danger of the situation, she was nervous enough to seek a little reassurance. His presence made her feel safe, and she wasn't entirely sure what to think of that.

As she walked behind him, she watched Booth's head swivel from side to side, constantly checking for signs of trouble. He carried his loaded rifle in front of him so that he could raise it quickly should the need arise. Every so often, he glanced back to check on her, usually offering her a smile when their eyes met. He had the ability to reassure her with nothing more than his proximity and a grin.

Brennan was pulled out of her thoughts by a signal from the front of the formation. She hadn't learned the meaning behind all of them, but the intended message became clearer when the entire unit dropped to the ground. Booth turned instantly to make sure she complied as well, placing a hand on her shoulder to urge her downward.

The dense growth on the forest floor concealed them as they lay side-by-side, eyes locked on one another as they tried to breathe evenly and listen for danger. The tension between the two was incredibly thick, and suddenly it wasn't simply anxiety they were feeling. The adrenaline was feeding another sensation altogether: _arousal_. Brennan's lips parted unconsciously, and her gaze flickered involuntarily to Booth's mouth. They lay mere inches from each other, and the heat of their attraction was palpable. Booth gave himself a mental shake and forced his attention to the more pressing matter of their safety.

The insurgents had apparently sent a couple of men to circle back and check for followers. Brennan could hear the two men conversing in Spanish from a short distance away, and after a few minutes, they gave their superior the all clear. Their voices faded away, but the soldiers stayed low for a few more minutes after they'd gone.

When at last they were given the signal to stand and resume their positions, Booth extended a hand to help Brennan to her feet. When they touched, the tension between them grew to something resembling an electrical current. Brennan felt it move through her body, coursing through her from the point of contact to the very follicles of her scalp. Every cell in her body seemed to be humming with the sensation, and it was clear from Booth's expression that he was experiencing something similar.

"Thank you," Brennan whispered, dropping her hand awkwardly.

"You're welcome, Bones," he mumbled in return. Booth resumed his position as her forward guard. The loss he felt when she pulled away was almost enough to make him reach for her hand again, but he managed to resist the urge.

As they moved forward again, he forced himself to pay attention to his surroundings, but the fact that he could feel her presence so strongly behind him made it more of a challenge. His body's reaction surprised him somewhat. He'd been attracted to her from the moment he'd seen her, and after talking to her the night before, that attraction had grown to be far more than merely physical. He'd never felt so strongly toward a woman before, much less a woman he'd just met. As he kept his senses alerted for danger, Booth puzzled over the intensity of their connection.

There was definitely something different about Temperance Brennan.

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Moreno's group of militants eventually reached a clearing not unlike the last one they had occupied, and they seemed to be meeting up with a slightly smaller collection of men. They now had more men and more guns on their side, and no one in the Ranger unit was happy about the development.

Brennan attempted to edge closer in the hopes that she might get a glimpse of Moreno, but Booth pulled her back to stand behind him. She gesticulated silently but impatiently, hoping to make it clear that this was a perfect opportunity to see Moreno up close, but he shook his head firmly and made it clear that he thought it was too dangerous.

Once they were sure that the insurgents were staying put, at least for the night, the unit retreated to a safe distance and made camp. Jackson ordered them to assemble the sleeping tents only, in case they were required to move again the next day. Brennan huffed a little as she put up her tent, watching Booth in her peripheral vision. When she was nearly finished with the task, he appeared beside her.

"You mad at me, Bones?" he asked with a guilty smile. She pushed away the automatic feeling of warmth that she felt when he smiled at her and rolled her eyes.

"What makes you think that, _Shrimp?_ "

"I deserved that," he said with a slight wince. "I know you were trying to get a look at the target, but it wasn't the right time." Booth tried to keep his voice low for the sake of their need for concealment, but even at a low volume, his words had somehow ignited the spark in Brennan's blue eyes. As well as the charge between their bodies.

"And when exactly will be the _right_ time?" she fired back, moving closer to him until they were toe to toe. "You guys have said yourselves that he stays hidden most of the time, but he can't hide when he's on the move. So why wouldn't that be the best time to-"

"Because he wasn't the only one on the move, and we weren't the only ones on alert, Bones. The guy's got at least thirty men now and who knows how many guns. They were on their guard too," he hissed, leaning toward her until their faces were mere inches apart. "The time to watch is when _they're not watching_. We wait until they're relaxed before we get closer."

Brennan pursed her lips, wanting to argue with him but feeling a little out of her depth. Covert operations weren't her area of expertise… they were his. She was fairly certain, however, that his behavior had been more about his protective instincts than about the mission itself. To her surprise, she found it as touching as it was irritating.

"Fine," she muttered before disappearing into her tent. She was rarely one to concede a point, but neither was she egotistical enough to argue simply for the sake of proving she was right. Brennan felt oddly energized after the heated exchange with Booth, however, and she belatedly realized that she had actually _enjoyed_ arguing with him.

 _What the hell was happening to her?_

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Major Jackson doubled the watch overnight, putting two men at a time on a rotating cycle. After a day of being on high alert, everyone was exhausted. Brennan was just as physically tired, but her mind refused to let her rest. She'd been chasing sleep for nearly an hour when she heard whispers from outside of her tent.

"What was up with you today, Sarge?" Brennan was fairly certain the question had come from Santana, and 'Sarge' could really only be one person…

"What do you mean?"

"You've been distracted, and that's weird for you. Plus, you were watching the scientist lady all day."

"No, I wasn't." Even Brennan could hear the weakness in Booth's denial.

"Oh, please. Did you forget who was walking behind the two of you all day? I had a front row seat to all those buckets of sexual tension," Santana teased him. "Hell, between the two of you in front of me and the fact that Leeds was hard all day from staring at her ass, I felt like I needed a shower."

"What?! That asshole was seriously-" Booth swallowed the end of his question, and Santana snickered.

"Sure, you don't like her at all." Brennan listened harder to their whispered conversation, and when Booth's reply came, it was almost inaudible.

"She's interesting."

"And hot," Santana added tauntingly. Booth sighed, thinking that the word didn't come remotely close to doing her justice.

"Yeah… And she doesn't belong in a place like this. What the hell is the Army playing at, involving someone like her in this mess?" His voice was almost a growl, and Brennan frowned in confusion at the obvious displeasure in his voice. _He doesn't want me here?_ she thought sadly.

"They're just using whatever resources they've got to get this bastard. No one forced her to be here," Santana reminded him. "She had a choice, and she chose to help. I'm sure a smart woman like her wouldn't be here if she didn't think she could handle it."

Booth grunted in disapproval. _Regardless of Bones' opinion of herself, I'm damn well going to make sure she stays safe._ Even in the darkness, Santana could see the determination on his face.

"Admit it, Sarge. You like her." Booth gave a long sigh before answering.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "But you said it yourself this morning, Streak. She's way too smart and beautiful to be interested in someone like me."

"Hey, man, I was joking about that," Santana replied seriously. "Don't be so hard on yourself. You're a good guy, and any woman would see that if you'd just give them the chance."

"Just drop it, please."

"Fine, but… for what it's worth, I think she likes you too."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever, man. I expect an invitation to the wedding."

There was a shuffling noise and some low laughter, and Brennan imagined that perhaps Booth had given his friend a playful shrug. Their quiet voices drifted away as they continued their patrol. Brennan's mind was racing. _He has feelings for me? He thinks I'm smart and beautiful? He thinks I'm too good for him?_

Brennan had always known that she was highly intelligent, but she hadn't always been confident about her physical appearance. Growing up primarily in foster homes, wearing hand-me-downs, and being taunted on a regular basis didn't exactly inspire high self-esteem. Hearing that Booth thought so highly of her was flattering. She was troubled over Booth's admission that he didn't think he was worthy of her. Granted, she didn't know much about him so far, but she'd yet to see or learn a single thing about him that she found unpleasant...

Brennan eventually dozed off into dreams of Booth's captivating brown eyes and his easy, comforting smile.

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Booth greeted her with a bright smile and an MRE when she joined him for breakfast the following morning. The argument of the night before had been forgotten, and although he hadn't slept for very long, his sleep had been fairly restful. They chatted politely as they ate their rations and waited for Walker and Leeds to return from watch so that Jackson could hold another briefing. Brennan watched him through furtive glances, trying to translate his expressions into the feelings she'd overheard him confessing the night before. When the conversation stalled for a few moments, Booth finally worked up the nerve to voice the question he'd been wanting to ask for more than a day.

"Bones… What are you doing here?" He held her gaze and watched her expression turn to dubious amusement. Her reply came in the slow, careful phrasing of an adult speaking to a small child.

"Helping the military identify a terrorist," she said, fighting a smile. Booth huffed a small laugh.

"No, I mean… Why are you _here_ , with us? Tracking a very dangerous man and his very dangerous cohorts through the jungle? Surely there's a safer way to make the ID. We've got old pictures and recent ones… Couldn't you have identified him that way?"

"I did analyze them before deciding to come here, but I wasn't completely certain," Brennan explained, her expression serious now. "I've studied the video footage, and if Moreno is truly Diego Ramirez, I'm confident I'll be able to identify the same kinetic markers."

"Why didn't you just insist on newer video to compare it to?"

"This way is faster," she shrugged, but her eyes shifted away almost guiltily. In that instant, Booth knew that there was more to it than she was saying.

"But that's not the only reason." He smiled when she looked at him in surprise. "I'm good at reading people." Brennan couldn't help but smile back.

"Yes, you are."

"So, I ask again… Why are you here? Why take the risk?" His eyes held her captive, and she gazed at him for a few moments, deciding how best to answer. Normally, she would simply shrug off a question like that, but she found herself wanting to open up to him. That in itself surprised her, but it didn't stop her from giving an honest answer.

"Adrenaline," she said finally. His expression shifted to one of confusion, and she added, "I came _because_ of the risk." Booth's eyes widened, and his mouth fell open a little.

 _Is she insane?_ Did she truly not understand just how dangerous this mission was? There was a very good chance that they would be killed or captured once the enemy became aware of their presence, especially after the kill shot was fired. Had she been adequately prepared for that? Had she been given some watered-down version of the possibilities, or had she been told the truth and chose to come anyway?

Brennan watched his face with slight apprehension, seeing his shock, anger, and determination play on his handsome features. He hadn't spoken, and she was beginning to wonder if she should've dodged his question after all.

"I've been in plenty of dangerous situations before, and I know how to handle myself," she added, trying to reassure him. Booth merely sputtered a little more, encouraging her to ramble on, "The things I do for _fun_ would probably make a lot of people cringe."

"Like what?" he managed to ask. She shrugged again.

"Mountain climbing, base jumping, rafting, diving - sometimes with equipment and sometimes without… I used to race my motorcycle, but I haven't had much opportunity since I started traveling more often."

Booth's expression was a comical mix of horror and incredulity. _Yes, definitely insane._ _Why would she do things like that?_ He didn't realize that he'd actually voiced the question until she answered it.

"Like I said…adrenaline." Brennan gave him a winning smile, and the sight of it dazzled him. He felt his own lips curving upward in spite of himself, and for a few moments, they were the only two people in the world. All too soon, the spell was broken by the return of Walker and Leeds. Jackson ordered everyone to gather for a briefing, and as Booth waited for things to get started, his mind replayed his conversation with Brennan.

She was such an unexpected mixture. Intelligent, beautiful, brave, exciting… Every time he spoke to her, it seemed he was discovering something new and wonderful about her. Booth had been honest with Santana the night before; he liked her. _A lot._ But as far as he was concerned, that didn't change the facts.

Someone like her would never truly be interested in someone like him.

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 **So Booth is still his guilty, self-flagellating self. Brennan will help with that though, much sooner of course.**

 **Leave me some love!**


	4. Chapter 4

**This story is now completely written, so I figured I'd just post a chapter a day until it's done. :) As always, thank you for the kind reviews and feedback. I'm glad people are enjoying this story thus far.**

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Chapter 4

"Alright, then. What've you got, Walker?" Jackson asked once everyone was situated. Walker and Leeds had just come back from scouting the area between the insurgents' camp and their own.

"There's no way to be sure, obviously, but it doesn't look like they're staying long. There's a village not far from here. I'd say they're probably doing some sort of business there, and then they'll move on," Walker replied.

"Business?" Brennan whispered to Santana, who was seated next to her.

"Drugs, guns, or girls," he whispered back. He didn't need to meet her gaze to know that his answer had alarmed her. Human trafficking was probably the worst part of Moreno's operation, and the small native villages that littered the otherwise uninhabited forests in the area often supplied him with young women. Sometimes the girls were traded for goods or to repay debts, but more often than not, they were kidnapped and drugged into compliance.

"Wouldn't we do better to pick him off while they're on the move? Seems like that's the only time he shows his face," Morris suggested. Brennan glanced at Booth, but he was studiously avoiding her gaze. She waited for him to argue against the idea, but Jackson spoke first.

"No," he said firmly. "When they're moving, every single one of them is armed. We saw proof of that yesterday. Now their numbers are increased as well. If we wait for them to make camp, there's a decent chance that at least some of them will be occupied with something other than watching their backs. We need to catch them off their guard."

"A suggestion, Major?" Booth offered, waiting until Jackson acknowledged him before continuing. "I suggest that we at least try to get some new video footage while Moreno is on the move. Taking the shot would give away our position, but recording his movements wouldn't. And we wouldn't have to get too close."

Brennan's mouth fell open slightly before she snapped it shut in frustration. Had she not proposed nearly the same thing the night before? He'd given her a logical argument against it, and now he was bringing it up in the briefing as a plausible tactic? Her eyes narrowed at him, and although Booth wasn't making eye contact, he shifted as though he could feel the heat of her glare.

Booth knew she would be angry with him, but his suggestion hadn't _really_ been the same as her idea. She'd wanted to get closer to the target in person, putting herself in more danger than he was comfortable with. He preferred instead to send someone in with a video camera so that she could have new video to analyze.

"I agree, Booth. I'm not sure we'll be able to get anyone close enough, but we'll attempt it the next time they move camp," Jackson replied.

"It would have to be while they're moving. Unless we can figure a way to lure the asshole out of his tent," Walker added, rolling his eyes sarcastically. Brennan, however, missed the sarcasm and brightened considerably as an idea began to take shape.

"Why can't we do that?" she asked. Six pairs of eyes turned to rest upon her, and more than one held a glint of surprise. "Why can't we draw him out somehow? We already know what would motivate him. Drugs or women, most likely, right? Santana looks like a local. We don't have any drugs to pretend to trade, but he could say he wants to sell me-"

" _Absolutely not!"_ Booth growled, no longer resisting the urge to look at her. He stared at her intensely, willing her to stop talking, but she ignored the dangerous expression on his face.

"It could work," she continued, inventing as she went. "He could say I'm a tourist he kidnapped or something, and when I get close enough to Moreno, I could give some sort of signal if he's actually Ramirez…"

"Major, you can't let her-" Jackson held up a hand to interrupt Booth's protest.

"Dr. Brennan, as much as I appreciate your willingness to go the extra mile, I'm sure it won't be necessary to resort to something so extreme." Jackson frowned thoughtfully at her, slightly wary of the determination he saw in her eyes. After a lengthy career in the military, he could spot a daredevil fairly easily. He wondered how he hadn't seen it in her before.

"The Major's right, ma'am," Walker seconded. "What would the signal be? What if you got close and decided that it wasn't Ramirez after all?" Brennan hesitated, and it was clear that she was trying to formulate a feasible plan of action for those circumstances. Booth took advantage of her uncertainty and piled on more shortcomings.

"There would be no guarantee that we could get you out alive, whether the ID were confirmed or not. Moreno is keeping a low profile, and it wouldn't make sense for an outsider to know exactly where to find them or just happen up on them by accident. They'd probably kill you both based on suspicion."

"Yeah," Santana agreed, giving Brennan a crooked grin. "Sorry, Doc, but I don't think the Wookie Prisoner gag is the way to go on this one."

"I don't know what that means." Brennan looked at him blankly, and before anyone could enlighten her, she changed tactics. "If that plan won't work, then I should at least be tagging along with anyone scouting their campsite. Especially Booth, since he would be most capable of taking the shot. If I can get a good look at Moreno, even through binoculars, then he could take the shot right then."

Booth wanted to argue with that idea as well, but he could tell that Jackson was considering it. He forced himself to do the same. Could he protect her in that kind of situation and still do his job? Could he pull that trigger and end another man's life knowing that she was watching? His stomach turned a little at the thought. Booth belatedly realized that he'd never told her he would be the one taking the shot. How did she know?

"I'll think about it, Dr. Brennan," Jackson said placatingly before addressing his men. "For now, we lay low and keep our eyes open. Keep the watch rotation and be ready to move camp again if necessary. Dismissed."

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Booth and Santana were next up in the rotation, and Booth's eyes followed Brennan as she retreated to her tent. She'd given him a loaded glance as she'd turned away, and he shook his head at the stubbornness he'd seen in her expression. It would have amused him if he weren't so concerned about her penchant for recklessness.

As he and Santana scouted the area, Booth's mind remained on Brennan. He hadn't really had time to recover after she'd admitted her somewhat ulterior motives for being there. Her blasé explanation of the risks she took in her daily life had left him stunned and more curious about her than ever.

Of course, the military was full of people who had the same affinity for risk-taking and dangerous situations, and he'd met more than his fair share of them. But it was difficult to imagine how a beautiful genius like her had ever turned into an adrenaline junkie. Had she always been that way or was there some underlying reason for her behavior? Was it rebellion? A coping mechanism of some sort?

Booth was suddenly desperate to know more about her. He craved any detail he could get his hands on. He'd never felt so connected and interested in anyone before, and he couldn't help but wonder if he was truly falling for her. _Stupid_ , he admonished himself silently as he crept through the dense forest with his rifle at the ready. It would be ridiculous to fancy himself in love with a girl he'd just met. But still, she plagued his thoughts…

Didn't she have anyone in her life to keep her from doing dangerous things? She was still so young. What about her parents? Grandparents? Siblings? ...Boyfriend? Booth cringed at the unwelcome thought of her with another man, and he actually had to stifle a growl of disapproval. He'd seen no ring on her finger, but that only meant she was neither engaged nor married…

Santana noticed his distraction and gave him a hard slap to the back of the head. Booth scowled at him but felt immediately contrite for his lack of attentiveness. He forced himself to keep his head in the game, pushing away thoughts of the intriguing Dr. Brennan until they returned to the campsite.

Morris and Leeds took the next watch, and Booth was slightly mollified to note that the latter carried a camera rather a rifle. He hoped that they'd come back with something helpful. Booth had also been hoping to have a word with Jackson about the request Brennan had made in the briefing, but Jackson was occupied at the moment.

As though pulled by some invisible magnetic force, Booth's feet carried him toward Brennan's tent. She was sitting cross-legged in the opening with a notebook on her lap, sketching and making notes that he wouldn't have been able to decipher even if he were close enough to see them properly. His shadow fell upon the white page, and she squinted up at him curiously.

She'd been irritated with him for about twenty minutes after he and Santana had disappeared into the woods, but the feeling had quickly dissipated, replaced by one of concern for his safety. He had seemed to disapprove of her risk-taking, but in her opinion, Booth was in no position to judge. He regularly volunteered for dangerous missions like this.

"Can we talk?" he asked quietly. Brennan gave him a half smile and a nod, moving to the side and gesturing an invitation into her tent. Booth was pleasantly surprised by the action, having expected _her_ to join _him_ rather than the opposite. He ducked through the enclosure, glancing at the well-organized interior as he sat down across from her. The tent flap fell closed, effectively isolating them from the view of anyone who might be watching, and the atmosphere changed immediately. The charge between them was palpable, and the strange magnetism compelled them closer to one another.

"Is everything okay?" Brennan asked, trying to ignore the obvious tension between them.

"Yeah, I just wanted to continue our discussion from earlier."

"Which part?" she inquired, her brow crinkling in the center. Booth responded with a teasing smile.

"The crazy things you do for fun."

"What about them?" she grinned back. He hesitated, his smile slipping a little.

"You say you do it for the adrenaline, but… I don't understand how someone like you is a closet adrenaline junkie."

"I don't know what that means," she frowned.

"I mean… You're taking unnecessary risks with your safety, possibly putting your own life in jeopardy, even just by being here with us. And I know you're smart enough to understand that, so… Why do you do it?"

Brennan stiffened, feeling more than a little reluctant to spill her life story to a man she'd just met. She felt an undeniable connection to Booth, but after so many years of keeping things to herself, the idea of letting someone into her past was intimidating.

"I have my reasons," she shrugged, attempting nonchalance. "No offense, but I just met you. And besides, how is it all that different from what you do? You're a Ranger. A _sniper._ You take huge risks with your life all the time. Why are _you_ like that?"

Booth blinked in surprise at having his own question thrown back at him. He supposed that he could've answered with any of the typical one-liners he gave in response to that question when it came from a woman, but instead he felt compelled to be honest with her. He couldn't very well expect her to let him in when he'd offered up nothing of himself.

"It's what I'm good at," he replied softly, and even he could hear the trace of shame in his voice. _Yes,_ he sneered inwardly, _I'm good at being a killer._ "I was planning to go to college on an athletic scholarship, but I was injured my freshman year. After that, I decided to follow in my grandfather's footsteps and join the military. I'm a third generation soldier, so it wasn't all that surprising to find that I was good at it. The Rangers was the best fit for me."

"Your ' _grand_ father's footsteps?'" Brennan asked, noting the odd discrepancy. "But one of your parents was in the military as well?" Booth looked away for a moment at the implied reference to his father, but once again, he found himself telling her the truth.

"My dad was an abusive alcoholic," he admitted. "My grandparents raised me and my brother for the most part. My grandmother died a few years ago, so it's just Pops now, but he's more of a father to me than my real one ever was." He met her eyes hesitantly, and although she was looking at him with compassion, he was relieved to see no trace of pity in her eyes.

"What about your mother?"

"She disappeared a long time ago. Packed up a few things and left while Jared and I were at school. I think she just couldn't take it anymore." Brennan winced at the desolation in his voice, feeling even more sympathy for him. It seemed their circumstances weren't so very different after all.

"My mother died when I was eight," she said quietly. "Her body was found in our car on the side of the road a few weeks before Christmas. The police said she was murdered, but the case is still open. My father was determined to find out what had happened to her. He was angry with the cops for dragging their feet, angry at her for dying, angry at… the world, I guess. He disappeared less than a month after she died. I haven't seen him since." Booth reached across the space to grasp her hand, offering his silent support and willing her to continue. "I had a brother, Russ… he was older. We both went into the foster care system and were separated almost right away.

"When he aged out, he petitioned for custody of me, but social services denied it. Said he couldn't offer me a stable home and that I was better off in a foster home." Brennan rolled her eyes at the incredibly flawed logic of those social workers. She'd have happily lived under a bridge with Russ if it meant being together and getting away from abusive foster parents. "He didn't give up though," she smiled sadly. "He got two jobs, trying to save enough money to prove that he could provide for me. But then… while he was walking home from work one night, he was mugged. They were teenagers, and they were high at the time. There were three of them, and there was a struggle. Russ suffered a head injury and died almost instantly. I was thirteen."

"I'm so sorry, Bones," Booth said, his voice low with empathy. She nodded her thanks and forced herself to go on.

"You asked why I do...the things I do," she sighed, sorting out her tangled memories. "I was so sure that when Russ turned eighteen, we'd be together again. That I'd have my family back, even if it were just the two of us. When he died, I felt like I'd lost everything. I was stuck in a house with foster parents who were sometimes physically abusive and _frequently_ verbally abusive. I was two years younger than the kids I went to school with, and everyone thought I was a freak. I just...went numb. I stopped feeling, stopped caring, stopped living. For a little while, I was grateful for the reprieve, but eventually I became desperate to feel something, _anything_.

"Then one day, I had the opportunity to help another student who was being bullied by a group of older boys. One of them pushed me, and I hit him. I'd never _really_ hit anyone before that, and it was just…"

"Exciting," Booth supplied knowingly. He'd felt a similar rush the first time he'd taken a swing at his father to defend his younger brother.

"Yes," she agreed. Her smile lit her face once more, like the sun clearing a stormy sky. "Anyway, after that, I did pretty much whatever I could to feel that way again. I stayed away from drugs and anything illegal because of what happened to Russ, but I developed a habit of getting myself into… interesting situations. One of my teachers eventually noticed a pattern and got me to open up about things. He had a second job as a karate instructor, and he offered to teach me. He gave me free lessons after school a few days a week."

"So you know karate?" he grinned.

"I have black belts in three styles of martial arts."

"Damn," he laughed. "Remind me not to get on your bad side."

"That would be wise," she chuckled warmly.

"And the other stuff, the motorcycle racing and cliff diving…?"

"That came later. I got my first bike after I graduated high school."

"At what? Sixteen?" he said incredulously. Brennan merely smiled wider and nodded. "How were you able to make it on your own at that age?"

"I wasn't entirely on my own by that point. Things are a little different now, but back then, foster care in that state ended with high school graduation or reaching the age of eighteen - whichever came first. My last foster mom was a good one though. Her name was Molly, and she was a widow. She took in foster kids so that she could help them and so that she wouldn't be lonely. Molly let me stay with her after I graduated, and I had a full academic scholarship to Northwestern. I worked part time, saved money, went to school… By the time I turned eighteen, I was finishing my undergraduate degree, and I was able to work as a teaching assistant and live on my own. Molly helped me buy my first motorcycle so that I could get back and forth to class. It was more affordable than a car."

Booth gazed at her, feeling slightly awed. He wondered vaguely what expression was on his face, but he couldn't bring himself to worry about it. Every time he learned something new about her, he seemed to fall for her a little more. She was stronger than he'd realized. Maybe even stronger than _she_ realized. She was a kindred spirit, a fighter, just like him. As he stared at her beautiful features, he could only find the coherency to articulate two words.

"You're amazing."

Brennan gave him a shy smile, and their eyes darted simultaneously downward to each other's mouths. The air was thick with electricity again, and they had somehow drifted even closer together.

Without stopping to weigh the consequences, they closed the distance, meeting halfway as their lips touched. For a few brief moments the kiss was soft and gentle, but as their breathing accelerated, their passion grew as well. Their tongues teased, their hands wandered, and their hearts raced. When the need for oxygen finally forced them apart, Brennan was surprised to find herself in his lap. She didn't recall how she'd gotten there. As they gasped for air, their eyes remained locked on one another. Brown on blue.

"Sorry," Brennan murmured, attempting to move from his lap. Booth held her in place with one arm and lifted the other to touch his fingertips to her swollen lips.

"Don't apologize," he replied, shaking his head with a gentle smile. "I've wanted to do that since the first moment I saw you." Brennan smiled against his fingers.

"Me too," she whispered.

Again, he captured her mouth with his own, and although there was less urgency, the kiss was just as passionate as the last. Time seemed to stretch endlessly. It could have been hours, days even. Or perhaps time had simply stopped altogether. They held each other tightly. She stroked the coarse stubble of his jaw, and he buried his fingers in her hair.

"Booth!" an unwelcome voice called from outside the tent. "The Major's looking for you." Brennan met Booth's gaze and smiled ruefully.

"Later," he promised, stealing one more quick kiss. She grinned back at him and nodded.

"Later."

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 **So we've learned some more about Brennan's background, and our couple has had their first kiss. I'd love to hear whatever thoughts you'd like to share. This story is quite a bit shorter than my previous ones. Just 9 chapters and a nice, fluffy epilogue.**

 **More tomorrow! Review pretty please!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hope you all are having a fabulous weekend! Thank you so very much for your wonderful reviews. I haven't had time to reply to everyone, but reading them certainly gives me a boost. Keep 'em coming! :)**

 **I hope you all like this chapter too. We've got some protective Booth and badass Brennan, among other things. I had fun writing it, and the next one, even more so. Enjoy!**

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Chapter 5

"Looks like the good doctor is making the rounds after all," Leeds sneered unpleasantly. He pointed to his tent and added, "I'd be happy to keep you company tonight, baby. I don't even mind sloppy seconds." Brennan rolled her eyes, but before she could fire back, Booth was in the man's face.

" _You treat her with respect_. And if you can't manage that, then don't speak to her at all. Don't even look at her," Booth growled. "Is that clear, Corporal?"

Leeds opened his mouth as if to reply but seemed to think better of it. He muttered a petulant 'Yes, sir,' but his gaze flickered to Brennan again, moving up and down her body. Just as he'd done on her first day in camp, Booth moved between them to shield her from the man's view. Brennan felt instantly warmer at the alpha male display and bravely placed a palm on Booth's back. She wasn't sure if her intention was to calm him or thank him, but she was pleased to feel his muscles relax a little beneath her touch.

"Now is there something you need, or are you just here to earn yourself an extra shift on watch?"

"We were able to get a few pictures. The Major wants her to take a look." Leeds stomped off in the direction of the latrines, and Booth turned to look at Brennan.

"Sorry about that," he said quietly. Brennan gave him an adorable crooked smile.

"For his behavior or yours?"

" _Mine?"_ Booth was puzzled. "What did _I_ do?"

"As much as I appreciate your defense of my honor, these alpha male displays really are unnecessary."

"Alpha male," he echoed, stifling a grin at her characterization of his behavior.

"Yes. Your actions are those of male establishing dominance through a display of superior strength and intellect as well as engaging in protection of a prospective mate. I don't usually appreciate that kind of-"

"Is that a squinty way of calling me a caveman?" he interrupted her pedantic speech, no longer able to hide his smile.

"Please don't say caveman," Brennan replied automatically. Her brow furrowed as she continued. "Did you say _squinty_?"

"Yeah, because you're a squint. It's a cop term, but it works in the military too. Squints are scientists or technical experts who help out with the brainy stuff. Lab rats, you know? They… _squint_ at things." He illustrated his point by pretending to be in need of a pair of bifocals. Brennan shook her head and began to walk toward the makeshift common area with Booth on her heels.

"A cop term, huh? Why do I get the sense that it's not a term of endearment?"

"Probably because it's usually not," Booth chuckled. "But in this case, it definitely is."

Their eyes met, and a significant look passed between them, sending a tingling sensation through her extremities. Much as Leeds had done to her, Brennan's eyes traveled the length of Booth's body. She'd never been the kind of girl to date, or even flirt really, but she found herself appreciating his form for what must have been the hundredth time since they'd met. Brennan gave herself a mental shake and continued toward Major Jackson. Booth snickered a little as he trailed in her wake, pleased that he wasn't the only one fighting the overwhelming attraction.

"Dr. Brennan," Jackson greeted her. She inclined her head in acknowledgment.

"Hello. Corporal Leeds said there were new images?"

"Yes," he replied, pulling a digital camera from his chest pocket and handing it to her. "I have copies of the older photos in my tent; I'll go grab them. Booth, come with me. I need a word."

Booth glanced at Brennan, but she was already scrolling through the images on the camera. _She's even squinting a little_ , he noted with a grin. He followed Jackson to his sleeping tent, gratefully recalling that he'd been wanting to speak with him anyway.

"Listen, Booth," Jackson said quietly. "I know you're not thrilled at the idea of letting her tag along on your watch shift, but I think it's probably going to come to that. At least for daytime watches when there's half a chance she could get a look at this guy."

"You're right; I don't like it at all." Booth sighed, frowning at the image Jackson's words conjured. Brennan in danger, hurt, or captured. "Leeds and Morris couldn't get video? Only stills?"

"They were afraid of burning the battery down by keeping the video on while they waited for the guy to show his face. It's not like we can charge it out here."

"Hopefully they got something decent then."

"We'll see. If not, I want you and Santana to take her with you the next time you scout in that direction in the daylight. We don't have the resources to stay here indefinitely, and to be honest, I'm surprised none of them have caught on to us yet. We need to get this done and get the hell out of here."

Jackson handed him a small stack of photographs that he'd pulled from his pack, and they headed back to Brennan. Booth had a hollow feeling in his stomach. As much as he didn't want to put Brennan in any more danger, there was too much truth in Jackson's words to deny. If she could make the ID in person, then Booth would be right there to take the shot.

He'd been amazed to realize that she returned his feelings, and now he felt as though that brief ray of light had been swallowed up by darkness. Booth didn't want to think about it, but the reality was inescapable. She would see him pull that trigger, see him take a life… And that would be it, he was certain.

He would lose her.

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Brennan absently registered the retreating footsteps of the two men, focusing instead on the camera in her hands. She mentally ticked through the observations she'd already made from the images she'd seen thus far. Were this a purely academic task, she would say that she was roughly eighty percent certain that Moreno and Ramirez were the same man. In her opinion, however, that number wasn't nearly enough to put a target on a man's back. She needed more.

She was so absorbed in the photos that she didn't realize she was no longer alone.

"You know, since you're putting out for Booth, you might as well have a little fun with me too."

Brennan clenched her jaw at the unwelcome sound of Leeds' voice, but she kept silent. In the foster homes she'd shared with younger children, the most common response to a child throwing a tantrum was to deny them the attention they sought. She thought that perhaps Leeds might benefit from the same treatment.

She tuned out his smug, predatorial voice and focused on the images. Leeds stepped behind her, standing so close that she could almost feel the heat from his body. When she felt his hand on her rear end, she finally looked away from the camera in her hands.

"Take your hand off my ass," she ordered, her voice deadly calm. Leeds gave a breathy sort of laugh in her ear and tightened his hold slightly.

"Or what?"

Before he could so much as blink, Brennan dropped the camera, reached behind her to grab hold of his wrist, and twisted it upward. In another heartbeat, Leeds was face down on the ground, snarling in pain while she held his arm at a painfully awkward angle and planted her boot at the back of his neck.

"Or I'll take it off _for_ you."

"Alright! For fuck's sake, I'm sorry!" he insisted, his voice somewhere between a growl and a whine. His lackluster apology was followed almost immediately by the disturbed voices of two other men. Jackson and Booth had chosen that moment to return to the clearing.

"What's going on here?" Jackson demanded.

"Corporal Leeds needs to learn to keep his hands to himself," Brennan answered wryly, releasing the man's arm and stepping away. She retrieved the camera from the ground and checked to see that it was undamaged.

Booth was fuming, but he knew the reprimand needed to come from the commanding officer if it was going to do any good at all. He glowered at Leeds as the latter pulled himself up off the ground.

"My apologies once again, Dr. Brennan." Jackson handed her the photos and took a fistful of Leeds' jacket collar to escort him away. Booth watched them go and sighed, turning back to Brennan.

"Are you alright?" His eyes surveyed her for injury. Brennan gave him a sardonic smile, and he couldn't help but grin back.

"No harm done," she shrugged.

"I guess you were right about being able to defend yourself. It was fun to watch."

"You should see me shoot."

They shared a laugh, their gazes catching on the other's lips. Brennan glanced around them to be sure they were truly alone and placed a quick kiss at the upturned corner of his mouth. Booth wanted to take her into his arms and kiss her properly, but her words had triggered something in his mind.

"Bones, at the briefing earlier when you said…" he faltered nervously. "How did you know I'm supposed to be the one taking the shot?"

"I overheard Major Jackson and Captain Walker discussing your qualifications the day I arrived. Santana had to interrupt their conversation to introduce me. I didn't know who they were talking about at the time, but I later realized it was you. I deduced that as the most skilled marksman in the unit, you would be the one…" She trailed off, watching his expressions shift through a mixture of understanding and apprehension.

"Oh." He gazed at her speculatively for a moment. "Does that bother you?" Brennan frowned in confusion.

"Why would it?"

" _Why would it?"_ Booth echoed incredulously. "I have to take a man's life. I have to pull that trigger and kill someone's son or brother or father… And since it looks like Jackson's going to take your advice, you could potentially be right there with me when it happens."

"He's going to let me come with you?" Her tone was eager, which concerned him even more than the thought of her seeing him do his job.

"Only if you agree to follow orders. No crazy ideas like pretending to sell yourself to a drug cartel. Got it?"

"Got it," she replied, only a little contrite. "And to answer your question… Yes, of course it will bother me to witness a man's death, but it won't be the worst thing I've seen. A person can't spend as much time around death as I do and not see…horrible things." Brennan's voice grew weaker toward the end of her sentence, and her eyes took on a haunted quality that Booth had seen more than once in the mirror. He took her hand instinctively and was pleased when she gave him a half-hearted smile.

They sat together on a fallen tree, and Brennan returned her focus to the images on the camera as well as the photos Jackson had given her. He watched her as she studied them, admiring the inverted V-shaped crinkle between her brows.

"The quality of the older photographs is poor, but the similarities are most pronounced in the shape of the orbital sockets and the angle of the mandible," she explained, thinking aloud as her eyes flickered back and forth from the old pictures to the new.

"What's that?"

"Commonly known as the jawbone," she clarified. "In the old video footage I was shown, it was clear that Ramirez was left-handed and suffered from either a previous injury to the spine or severe disc degeneration. These new images are compelling, but I still need to see him in person. I need to analyze his gait and stature."

"But maybe we could get new video for you. Maybe-"

"Booth, we have no idea how many attempts it would take to get a decent sampling on video or how long Moreno intends to stay in one place. We can't hide out indefinitely; sooner or later, someone is going to figure out we're here. We need to act quickly."

He was scowling again at the thought of letting her get that close to Ramirez, but her logic was in step with Jackson's. Regardless of how much it bothered him, he knew that they were both right. Booth smiled at the glint of stubbornness in her eyes.

"You know, I'd much rather be kissing you than arguing with you," he smirked.

She grinned back, and he heard her breath catch in her chest. They were sitting so close to one another that they may as well have been physically connected, but as their heads gravitated even closer, they heard someone laugh from behind them.

"Am I interrupting something?" Walker asked cheerfully, knowing full well that he was doing precisely that. Booth and Brennan sat up and leaned away from one another as abruptly as though they'd been doused with cold water.

"No, sir," Booth grumbled.

"Not much privacy around here," Walker commented. "Any luck with those pictures, Doc?"

"They confirm my previous observations, but I still need to see Moreno in motion to be absolutely certain of his true identity."

"Well, you'll get your chance," Walker replied. "Booth, you and Santana are up next for the first watch tomorrow morning. The Major wants you to scout the enemy camp for a few hours and take Dr. Brennan with you. Give her a pair of binoculars, and maybe we'll get lucky."

Brennan grinned victoriously at Booth, who smiled weakly back at her. Walker watched the two of them communicate silently for a moment and chuckled quietly, shaking his head as he walked away.

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That evening, the unit gathered for another briefing, and Jackson gave clear and concise instructions for the following day. Brennan sat next to Booth again, but they took care to leave a little more space between them this time. Morris and Leeds took turns glaring at her, which led Brennan to assume that Leeds had been properly reprimanded by his superior. Morris was apparently in sympathy with Leeds, but other than the occasional rude comment, he'd kept his distance.

"While Booth, Santana, and Dr. Brennan are scouting the insurgent camp, the rest of you will be stationed at multiple rendezvous points between their camp and ours. Dr. Brennan, if you can confirm the ID, you'll give the go ahead and proceed immediately to the nearest point. You'll meet up with Captain Walker, and Morris and Leeds will join you both on the way back here. Booth will take the shot, and he and Santana will follow as quickly as possible. If the shot is successful, Booth, you'll radio back in Morse code that the extraction protocol is a go."

"Extraction protocol?" Brennan asked.

"Yes, after I have the signal from Booth, I'll call the extraction team, and we'll be picked up by chopper in a clearing about two klicks away," Jackson explained.

Brennan nodded in comprehension and felt her heart rate pick up at the prospect of their plans for the next day. She listened passively to the rest of the briefing as Walker used a map of the area to assign rendezvous stations. Jackson dismissed them a few minutes later, giving last minute instructions for the night watch and other preparations for the following morning.

Her thoughts and emotions were a confusing jumble of excitement, determination, and fear. She could feel the first tremors of anticipation that always preceded a brush with danger, but her usual eagerness was tempered by worry for Booth's safety. She didn't like the idea of leaving him behind after making the ID, but she'd promised to follow orders. Multiple scenarios raced through her mind, most of which involved Booth being injured or killed. Brennan knew that, logically speaking, there was no point in worrying about the outcome of the plan, but her emotions weren't adhering to logic.

"Can I talk to you?" Booth's voice pulled her out of her thoughts, and she nodded, following him a short distance through the trees until they were out of sight of the others. He turned abruptly and pulled her into a tight embrace. "I really don't want to do this," he whispered into her hair. She hugged him back and brushed her lips lightly against his jaw.

"You don't want to do what?" she asked quietly, leaning back to look at him. His face was shadowed in the receding twilight, but she could still read the turmoil in his expression.

"Any of it. I don't want to be here. I don't want to shoot anyone… And I sure as hell don't want to put you in that situation with me."

"This is a bad time to be having a crisis of conscience."

"It's not the first time," he admitted. "I've been rethinking my career choices a lot lately, but I don't want to talk about that right now. I need you to promise to follow the plan, okay? No daredevil stuff, no heroics, just…keep yourself safe. Alright?"

"Alright," she nodded.

"Promise me."

"I promise, Booth."

He caressed her cheek for a brief moment before touching his lips to hers. Though the initial contact was soft, the kiss deepened quickly, setting their pulses racing. Their bodies pressed against one another, and she felt his thick arousal between them. Brennan shuddered with want as his tongue danced with hers.

Booth's hands had moved in opposite directions, one to weave its way into her hair and the other to rest on her ass. Unlike with Leeds earlier that day, Brennan found herself relishing in his touch and craving more of it. She vaguely registered that this must be what people referred to as 'making out like teenagers.' She'd been kissed before, but never like this.

They were both breathing heavily when at last they broke apart, and Booth leaned down to rest his forehead against hers. The intensity had taken him by surprise as well, but he knew that this was neither the time nor the place to take things any further.

"You should get some sleep, Bones," he whispered. Brennan nodded and allowed him to walk her back to her tent. They said a quiet goodnight, and she zipped herself into the enclosure.

As she lay in her sleeping bag, chasing sleep, her mind was whirling with the possibilities. If the circumstances had been more appropriate, she was certain they would have done more than 'make out.' For the first time in a _long_ time, Brennan felt younger than her actual age.

She wasn't ashamed of her inexperience with men, but she now found herself wishing she'd devoted a little more time and attention to exploring things of a sexual nature. There had always been so many other things to distract her. Most teenagers lost their virginity in high school or in college at the very latest. Brennan knew that she was an anomaly.

She had been two years younger than her classmates in high school, and she had still technically been a minor for the first two years of college. Her youth had been the perfect deterrent for overzealous young men. They had left her alone for the most part, and Brennan had always been too busy with her academic pursuits to develop even a slight interest in anyone.

The only man who had ever made sexual advances toward her had been her doctoral advisor. He had pursued her in spite of their vast age difference, but Brennan had never been attracted to him. What little collegial respect she'd had for him had been damaged by his persistence, and she had eventually been forced to file a complaint with the dean. Dr. Stires had moved on to another target at that point, and Brennan had felt nothing but relief.

Now she was faced with an altogether different dilemma. This time, the attraction was mutual. The pursuit was thrilling, and her feelings for Booth were undeniable. She felt no trepidation at the thought of physical intimacy, but she worried what he might think of her. Perhaps he would think her a freak for being a virgin at twenty-two years old. Should she tell him about her lack of experience? Would he still want her? Did she even want to sleep with him?

 _Yes_ , her subconscious answered. Of course she did. Booth was the first man to evoke such a powerful physical response from her, which would have been enough in itself. She'd decided long ago to wait until she felt a strong enough attraction to someone, and she'd simply never encountered anyone who fit the bill… until now. Although Brennan hadn't remained a virgin for sentimental reasons, the fact that she was emotionally as well as physically attracted to Booth was satisfying. She liked the idea of letting him be her first.

She briefly wondered at his previous experience, but she quickly forced the thought away. He was twenty-eight, extremely good looking, and far too much of an alpha male to have remained celibate. Logic and understanding of the male species made things clear for her. What _wasn't_ clear was why the thought of him with another woman made her feel sick to her stomach.

Brennan shoved the troublesome thoughts away and rolled over in her sleeping bag. _I'm probably worrying over nothing_ , she thought wryly. If the mission succeeded the next day, there would be no opportunity for sex or much of anything else.

They would all do their jobs and part ways… And that thought made her feel even worse.

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 **So yes, Brennan is a virgin. I know at least one of you had speculated about that. I never liked the situation with Stires. It felt like something that was just dreamed up by the writers to stir more drama, which I understand is part of the business. But in terms of characterization, I don't think a smart, ambitious young Temperance Brennan would have jeopardized her future in a field that is already difficult for women just for the sake of her libido. I know, no one's perfect, but it just seemed very out of character, IMHO. So this Brennan handled things differently and is still a virgin. Their first encounter won't be a typical 'first time' though. ...but we'll get to that next time. ;)**

 **Reviews make the updates come faster!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Happy Monday everyone! At this rate, I'll have this story wrapped up by Thursday. Thank you for the fabulous reviews and feedback; I love reading your thoughts!**

 **Now hold onto your panties, because all that sexual tension is about to spill over...**

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Chapter 6

The unit packed everything up the next morning in preparation to either relocate their campsite that evening or to leave Colombia altogether, depending on the outcome of the mission. Brennan had slept poorly, but the prospect of danger and excitement was enough to keep her focused. Judging by his intense expression, Booth seemed to be on high alert as well. They ate breakfast in silence, and she managed to catch his eye. She lifted one brow as if to check that he was alright, and his eyes softened immediately. He gave her a nod and what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

The unit dispersed a short while later, most of them heading to their assigned rendezvous points. Booth, Brennan, and Santana hiked toward the insurgent camp. Booth led the way, and Santana brought up the rear, leaving Brennan in the protected center position. They slipped through the jungle as quietly as possible and found a well-covered vantage point from which to observe Moreno's men.

It was still early, and the encampment was quiet save for a few men standing guard. They were armed with assault rifles, and they patrolled the perimeter of the small clearing. The setup didn't look any more permanent than the last time Booth had seen it, further confirming the suspicion that Moreno would be on the move again soon. He studied the arrangement of tents and guards with a practiced eye, keeping his weapon at the ready.

Once Brennan realized how little there was to see, her gaze gravitated involuntarily toward Booth. She couldn't help but watch him. Everything about him intrigued her. His intensity, his personality, his appearance, even the alpha male characteristics that typically irritated her in other men. Every moment she spent with him and every new thing she learned about him seemed to draw her in deeper.

She studied his features with an interest that was certainly more than academic. She'd already catalogued his chiseled jaw, straight nose, and high cheekbones, and she knew that if he looked at her, his eyes would be dark brown, warm, and inviting. His thick brown hair was hidden under a hat, but their stolen kisses had offered enough opportunity for her to memorize its length and texture. Even in his fatigues, the wide set of his shoulders and his broad chest were apparent. His muscles were tensed, as though his body were poised to attack or defend at any moment.

The more Brennan studied his features, the easier it became for her to imagine what he might have looked like as a child, and she wondered how much his personality had changed. Booth's description of his childhood had been as bleak as her own, and she wondered if he'd been withdrawn and quiet, as she had been. Or perhaps he had overcompensated the negatives with an abundance of charm and personality. She'd known both types in the system. Keeping to herself had been her best defense mechanism, but she had known many other children who had coped differently.

Booth had turned out well enough, in her opinion. He seemed to genuinely care about his family and friends, and his choice of career showed that he obviously had a great deal of courage and integrity. Brennan recalled his whispered confession from the previous evening and wondered if she would get the chance to bring it up with him again. She was concerned by what she'd seen in his expression. Guilt, anxiety, sadness… How was it that she could so easily detect those things in Booth's features when she'd never had the skill to do so with anyone else? The inconsistency baffled her.

Brennan felt a nudge from her right, effectively startling her out of her wayward musings. When she glanced in Santana's direction, she immediately noticed the smirk on his face and was embarrassed. She had no idea how long she'd been staring at Booth. Brennan smiled apologetically at Santana and redirected her gaze to the clearing. There were more men moving around now, but even without the binoculars, she could tell that none of them was Moreno.

Over the next few hours, Booth and Santana observed the activity in the enemy camp. They watched for patterns in the movement of the guards and memorized their schedules. At nearly midday, one of the men delivered a meal to one of the tents and emerged empty-handed, giving Booth the impression that Moreno was most likely inside. Brennan made observations of her own. By the time Booth called an end to their watch, she had mentally catalogued the bone structure of every man she'd seen in the clearing. She was certain that none of them was Ramirez, but she thought there was at least one who could possibly be related to him.

They held position for as long as possible, but Booth knew that if they didn't leave soon, they wouldn't make it back to their own camp before nightfall. He signaled to Brennan and Santana that it was time to go, and they fell into step behind him, following in single file just as they'd come.

After walking for only a few minutes, Brennan ran into what felt like a solid wall. Booth had stopped abruptly, and the tension radiating from his body made her skin prickle. He had raised his weapon and was scanning the jungle in all directions. She looked back at Santana, expecting him to be doing the same, and in the instant her eyes left Booth, she found herself lying flat on her back in the dirt.

Booth was on top of her. Santana had dropped to the ground as well, and neither of them were looking at her. Their eyes were trained to the scopes of their rifles, and Brennan attempted to quiet her breathing so that she could listen for the danger they had sensed. It was a feat much easier said than done, however, because Booth was completely shielding her body with his own. She could feel every inch of him, and she knew that the adrenaline surging through her veins had just as much to do with Booth as it did with the danger they were in.

Brennan heard a rustling of leaves and the faint sounds of a Spanish conversation some twenty yards to their right. A pair of Moreno's guards had apparently decided to take a wide circuit on their patrol. She instinctively turned her head toward the sound, but she couldn't see the source of it. Long minutes passed as the two men moved closer toward them and then passed by, still completely unaware of their presence.

When Brennan looked up at Booth again, his gaze was no longer focused on the potential threat. He was looking at her. The intensity in his eyes made the air freeze in her lungs, and she couldn't have moved if her life depended on it. His eyes, his body, even his scent held her captive, and she couldn't look away. Some distant part of her brain registered that the danger must have passed, for if it hadn't, Booth wouldn't be focused on her. Their lips were mere inches apart, and the urge to close that distance was almost unbearable…

But Santana began to rise slowly to his feet, and the spell was broken. Booth stood as well, pulling her up with him and smiling apologetically.

"Sorry," he whispered.

"Don't be," she murmured back. They shared one last heated glance before Booth turned and began to lead them through the jungle once more.

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By the time the unit had regrouped and constructed another campsite, the sun was setting. Major Jackson pointed out the direction of a nearby stream that could be used for bathing, and the men took turns washing while others kept watch. Brennan waited only until Morris and Leeds had finished their business before joining. Jackson and Walker were finishing up as well, but Santana and Booth were still in the water when she approached. The latter looked at her with a startled expression when she lifted her shirt over her head. She merely laughed.

"You look shocked."

"Yeah, well… I just didn't expect you to be all… you know…" Booth stumbled over his words as she stripped down to her bra and panties and entered the water. It was no more than he'd already seen a few days earlier, but he once again seemed to be mesmerized at the sight of her. He had an odd urge to go cover her up or at least splash water in Santana's eyes, regardless of the fact that he knew Santana didn't think of her that way.

"I'm rarely shy," Brennan shrugged. "At the moment, cleanliness feels more important than modesty."

Santana chuckled under his breath and diligently avoided looking at Brennan. He finished bathing as quickly as possible, grinned smugly at Booth, and left the area. They watched him go, and the moment they knew they were alone, they were in each other's arms.

The water level was well above their waists, and Booth reached down with both hands to lift her body against him. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his hips as her arms wound themselves around his neck. They kissed feverishly for several minutes, clinging to one another as if it were their last moment on earth.

"Stay with me tonight," Brennan whispered when they eventually parted. He searched her face for a moment, needing to be sure that she truly meant it.

Her expression was a mixture of lust and need, and Booth recognized the same desperation that he himself was feeling. He needed to hold her, to kiss her, to be inside of her. He craved her touch the way a drowning man craves oxygen. Somehow she had become as vital to him as the air he breathed. Booth nodded in agreement and kissed her soundly once more.

"We should finish up and go eat dinner," he said, pressing his lips into her damp hair. "You've got to be hungry."

Brennan smiled and allowed him to help her finish bathing. The feel of his hands on her wet skin was incredibly erotic, and she hoped that she would be able to pull herself together enough to sit amongst the rest of the unit while they ate.

They held hands as they walked back toward the small grouping of tents, only letting go when they came within sight of the others. Santana smirked at Booth but held his tongue as he handed them their rations. They chose a patch of ground a little removed from the rest of the group and sat down together.

"So… what will you do after you finish your work in Peru?" Booth asked quietly. Brennan took a sip from her canteen and thought for a moment before answering.

"I'm not completely sure, actually. I've been thinking about a change in direction. The Jeffersonian Institute in DC has been courting me for a while. They want me to work in their Medico-Legal lab."

"That sounds great. Would you still have to travel?"

"Not nearly as much. Maybe once or twice a year, but hopefully not for months at a time. I like the idea of less travel," she admitted. "I love getting to see the world, even in situations like this, but it can be exhausting."

"Tell me about it," Booth commiserated.

"I like the idea of having somewhere permanent that I can call home. I haven't had that in a very long time."

Booth smiled sadly at her words, understanding what she didn't say out loud. She hadn't felt that kind of stability since she'd become a foster child at eight years old. He felt a sudden surge of gratitude toward his grandparents. Had they not been willing to raise their grandsons, Booth would've ended up in the system as well.

"What's holding you back?" he asked. She shrugged a little before answering.

"Change can be… uncomfortable for me sometimes. They first approached me about a year ago, and the offer still stands. But it feels like I'm always needed more in other places. Like now."

The conversation soon turned to more mundane topics, but her words kept replaying in Booth's mind. He was reminded of his own offer of alternative employment. After he'd been captured and tortured last year, he'd begun to seriously consider getting out of the Army for good. He'd had an offer from the CIA, but they wanted him for his abilities as a sniper. The urge to distance himself from that life had never been stronger than in the past few days. Working for the CIA would also mean that he'd probably still be expected to do a lot of traveling, and like Brennan, he yearned for stability.

Santana's cousin was apparently a big shot for the FBI in the DC field office, and even though Santana had said the guy was a bit of an asshole, he was sure that his cousin would appreciate having someone like Booth on his team. Booth hadn't completely made up his mind about it, but as he looked at Brennan sitting next to him, he couldn't help but wonder about the possibilities of living in the same city.

Would she give him a chance? Could they have a future together?

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Walker and Morris took the first watch that evening, and Booth waited until the rest of the men were asleep before sneaking through the darkness to Brennan's tent. He unzipped the tent just enough to crawl through the opening and was surprised when he felt her hands tug hard on his shirt to pull him in the rest of the way.

Her lips were on his in an instant, and Booth fumbled behind him to pull the zipper back down. He forced himself to break away from her, framing her face in his large hands as they knelt together on the floor of the tent.

"Are you sure?" he whispered.

"I'm sure, Booth."

"I don't want you to feel like you're oblig-" She silenced him with another kiss and slipped her hands beneath his shirt, exploring the skin of his lower back.

"Please," she moaned softly. "I need you."

He needed her too, and with a sigh of surrender, he wound his arms tightly her waist. Their mouths met again, and his tongue slipped boldly between her lips. Booth forced himself to take things slowly, wanting to savor every sweet moment of their time together. The darkness was thick, but the air was alive with the night sounds of the jungle wildlife. It provided a perfect soundtrack for their movements and covered the sounds of their affections.

Brennan pulled the shirt over his head and tossed it away from them, allowing her hands to roam the sculpted contours of his torso. She memorized his body with her touch. Her fingertips danced over his skin from biceps to shoulders, to chest, to abdomen, and lower still. Booth was exploring as well, cradling her head in his hands as his lips caressed her neck. His sweet kisses sent a tingling rush to her core.

They removed each other's clothing slowly, learning every inch of the skin they revealed. Booth found himself both loving and hating the impenetrable darkness. It made their other senses more aware, and yet he felt almost deprived that he couldn't see her beautiful body. Their time together seemed so precious, and he knew the memory of it would be so much sweeter if he could _see_ the perfect curves he felt beneath his fingertips.

Booth eased her backward onto her sleeping back, settling his hips between her legs as he tasted the softness of her breasts. Brennan gasped as he captured one hardened peak with his mouth and teased the other with his fingers. Her back arched upward involuntarily, and she gripped a fistful of his hair. He continued the sweet torture for several minutes, and Brennan wondered if she might actually climax this way.

By the time Booth's mouth drifted south, her thighs were shaking with the intensity of her need. He grinned in the darkness, running a finger across her slick folds before plunging his tongue between them. In that moment, they were both grateful for the noises of the jungle outside the tent, because Brennan couldn't suppress the soft cry of pleasure that rose up in her throat. Booth groaned against her center, sending vibrations to her clit.

Her hips rose up instinctively as he sucked hard on the tender flesh and slid a finger into her warmth. Brennan clenched around his finger as her first orgasm washed over her, and Booth relished the heady taste of her. She trembled against him as she came down slowly, reaching down with her hands to pull him upward.

Their lips met again, and she could taste her own essence in his kiss. The sensuality of it made her bold, encouraging her to wrap her fingers around his length. Booth was painfully hard, and the desire to be inside of her was overwhelming. He hoped she was ready, because he wasn't sure how much longer he could wait.

Booth felt her nod as though she had read his mind. He eased into her slowly, gasping in surprise at how tight she was. Inch by inch, he filled her until he was buried to the hilt, and she clung to him as her body adjusted to his size. He didn't move for several long moments, both for her benefit as well as his. Booth had no desire to hurt her, and the delicious heat of her was exquisite and intense.

Brennan felt his lips brush tenderly across her own, and wrapped her legs around his hips as he began to move. It was slow at first, like the beginning of a lovers' dance. He could feel her body straining beneath him, seeking more, and his tempo increased gradually. He drove deeper, harder, and faster until the erotic sounds of flesh meeting flesh filled the tent.

Her breasts bounced between them, and her hips met each thrust with equal fervor. Before Brennan even realized what was happening, she soared over the edge once again, trembling in his arms and muffling her cries of pleasure against his shoulder. The tightening and spasming of her core was more than Booth could withstand, and he came hard within her only seconds later.

They lay in each other's arms as their heightened senses slowly returned to normal. A thin sheen of sweat gave the night air an added chill, and after a few moments, Booth slipped out of her and settled them both beneath her blanket. Brennan tucked her head into the hollow of his neck and savored the sense of safety and comfort she always felt in his arms.

"Are you okay?" he whispered into her hair.

"Much better than okay," Brennan assured him, smiling into the darkness. "Is it always like that?"

"Certainly not for me," he chuckled.

The intensity of their connection had stunned him, and it was clear to him now that he didn't ever want to let her go. Making love to Temperance Brennan had been the most illuminating experience of his life.

Silent seconds passed as he grappled with the wonder of it all until he eventually registered the implications of her question. He lifted a hand to cup her cheek. _Did she mean that the way it sounded?_ he wondered. Booth was suddenly alarmed at the possibility that he had taken her innocence. Had he hurt her? Frightened her?

"What did you mean by that? You never felt like that with anyone?" he asked hesitantly.

"No… I've never done that with anyone before." Her tone was nervous, and she braced herself for his reaction. She'd wanted to tell him before anything had happened, but she'd gotten swept up in their passion so quickly. Booth was sputtering a little and clearly shocked at the revelation. "I'm sorry," she said anxiously.

"No, Temperance," he whispered, hearing the vulnerability in her voice. "There's nothing to be sorry for. I'm just amazed that someone so beautiful could make it to twenty-two without ever having sex. I mean, you've got to have men lining up for you wherever you go. I'm honored that you chose me."

"It's not really like that. I just never met anyone I liked enough to consider taking that step, I guess. And I was always busy with other things."

Booth kissed her softly and held her close, feeling humbled and incredibly protective of her. It was remarkable that someone so intelligent could also be so inexperienced in the ways of the world. He wouldn't go so far as to call her naive, but there was definitely a lack of self-awareness. Knowing that he was the only man who had ever made love to her filled him with satisfaction, and he felt even more territorial of her than before… which was saying something. Booth even found himself wishing that she had been his first too. His _only_.

As that realization permeated his mind further, he recalled the conversation they'd had over dinner. What happens next? He didn't want to overwhelm her, but he didn't want to leave her guessing at his intentions either.

"Bones, what we were talking about over dinner… about what happens after you leave here…" He paused, searching for the right words, and he felt her shift a little to turn her face toward his. "After this mission is done, they want me to take another in Kosovo. Some general who's responsible for a lot of civilian deaths. But… I don't want to," Booth admitted. It was the first time he'd said the words aloud. "After I was captured last year, I had to spend some time in the hospital, and I started to reconsider my options." He hesitated for a few moments, and she gave his chest a gentle squeeze of encouragement.

"Your options?"

"I don't want to be a sniper anymore." _There,_ he sighed inwardly. He'd said it. "No matter how good I may be at it, I know it's slowly killing me. Usually I can tell who the bad guys are, you know? But lately, it's getting harder. The guy we're after right now? He's been sanctioned by the Colombian government. He's _technically_ on the right side, but he's doing a lot of bad things, and their government either won't or can't do anything about it because they're too busy dealing with their actual enemies."

Booth stopped himself before he risked revealing classified information. The truth was that Colombia had only brought the US into this mess because they'd caught wind of a plan to assassinate a US government official. That wasn't something he was at liberty to talk about, however, and he fell silent.

"I understand the predicament," Brennan replied. "It's a necessary psychology of warfare. Heroes and villains… Without clear distinction like that, we'd never be able to fight. The problem is that perception is reality. Everyone who's fighting obviously thinks that they're on the right side of a conflict. If they didn't, they wouldn't be fighting at all."

Booth sighed and held her tighter, digesting her words. _Definitely not naive_ , he thought.

"I need more certainty than that. I want to be more than just the one pulling the trigger on someone else's orders." Saying the words gave him an overwhelming sense of liberation.

"Then you're right," Brennan replied softly. "You should stop. Will the Army let you out?"

"I'm up for re-enlistment next month, but I haven't given them an answer yet."

"What would you do instead?" she asked, and here Booth hesitated again.

"I was thinking about maybe joining the FBI."

"That career would be ideal for a man with your skill set. Not to mention your morals and your personality," Brennan agreed. The genuine certainty in her voice made him smile, and he felt flattered that she thought so highly of him.

"Well, actually… Santana has a cousin who works in the DC field office, and he thinks I might have a way in there, so…" Booth felt as nervous as a teenager asking for a prom date. Brennan's heart seemed to skip a beat as she connected the dots.

"DC? Really?" Her voice was full of hope, and it made him smile wider.

"Yeah, and maybe if we both ended up there… And maybe if I asked you out… Maybe you'd say yes?"

"No," she replied softly, and his heart sank until she added, "I'd _definitely_ say yes."

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 **Now, if you're thinking Brennan wasn't really acting like a virgin, you'd be correct. This Brennan is more comfortable in her own skin than your typical 22 yr old virgin. She has more tenacity, and her love for extreme sports has long since obliterated anything that would have made this experience a painful one.**

 **I hope you picked up on the line I borrowed from Soldier on the Grave too. One of my favorites. :) Now, I'm aware that S12 placed Raddick's death in 1995, and this is 1998, but in my reality, Booth hasn't endured that particular crisis at this point. Just one of the things that would change about his future with Brennan coming into his life at this stage in the game.**

 **Please review if you have a second, and I'll be back with more tomorrow!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you for your support and kind words. It means so much!**

 **Things are heating up a bit more in this chapter... in more ways than one. ;)**

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Chapter 7

Booth woke before dawn the next morning and turned his head toward the woman sleeping in his arms. Her head rested on his shoulder, and he could feel her soft hair tickling the skin of his upper arm. Brennan had her arm curled upon his chest so that her fist was tucked beneath her chin. It was still too dark for him to see her properly, but it wasn't hard to imagine how adorable she probably looked.

He knew that he needed to return to his own tent before the others began to wake, but the thought of leaving her side was almost painful. Booth buried his face in her hair and inhaled deeply, trying to memorize the scent as he breathed her in. She stirred against him, stretching her shapely limbs like a cat waking from a nap in the sun.

"Hey," he whispered.

"Hey." Brennan tilted her head upward to kiss him, savoring the feel of his lips on hers. "What time is it?"

"About four, I think. Still dark, but I can't risk staying much longer."

"Would you be in a lot of trouble if someone found out?" she whispered in concern. She knew that they'd been keeping their affections private, but she hadn't thought much about the potential consequences.

"Not really, but I don't want to give Jackson a reason to order me to stay away from you. If he did, then I'd have to obey or there could be serious repercussions. Disobeying a direct order is a big deal."

"I know that, but why would he give an order like that to begin with, Booth? It's not like we're hurting anyone."

"No, but he could argue that involving myself with you would distract me from the mission, possibly risking lives, including my own."

"Is that true?" Brennan asked, alarmed at the idea that she could inadvertently be responsible for Booth being hurt or even killed. She started to sit up, but he held her against him. "Why didn't you-"

"You don't need to worry about it, Bones. I considered the risks, but…this is worth it. _You're_ worth it."

"But if I'm causing a problem by-" He seized her lips with his own, kissing her until she had nearly forgotten the argument. When he eventually lifted his mouth, she felt dazed.

"I can handle it; I promise. There is something you can do to help though."

"What?"

"Keep yourself safe. Just being here is risky enough for you. Don't do anything crazy. The only thing that would distract me from the job is worrying about your safety," he said earnestly. Brennan chewed her lip nervously. She had no wish to make the situation more hazardous for Booth, but avoiding risk was difficult for her. Sometimes choosing the more dangerous option felt like pure instinct.

"I'll try," she whispered. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"Thank you," he replied, kissing her again. "I hate it, but I really do need to go. You should go back to sleep." They squeezed each other a little tighter before Booth rose to get dressed, fumbling in the dark to find all of his clothing. He kissed her one last time and was gone.

Booth made it back to his own tent undetected, slipping into his own sleeping bag as silently as possible. For a few moments, he listened for any indication that someone had seen or heard him, but none came. He drifted back to sleep, but Santana shook him awake less than an hour later.

"Rise and shine, Sarge. We're up for a perimeter check."

Booth groaned and rubbed his eyes. This was going to be a long day.

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Brennan was definitely low on energy as well, even before learning that they would be spending another day tracking Moreno's men through the jungle. As she watched Booth walking in front of her, however, she couldn't bring herself to regret having stayed up for most of the previous night. Between their lovemaking and quiet conversation, she doubted they'd slept more than three hours.

Every so often, Booth would offer his hand to help her as they climbed or descended a steep incline, and each time their hands touched, they felt that same electricity between them. Booth was having a difficult time resisting the urge to kiss her, regardless of the fact that they were surrounded by the others in his unit. Although he managed to stay alert and watchful, the gravitational pull toward Brennan was palpable.

When the insurgents eventually stopped in the late afternoon, the unit took cover to observe them for about half an hour. It was almost immediately apparent that they were making a more permanent encampment than the last one they'd occupied. Brennan watched through binoculars, searching for Moreno amongst the group, but the man seemed to have concealed himself fairly quickly, leaving what appeared to be his second in command to give his instructions to his men. Brennan was disappointed, but what she _did_ see through the binoculars made her angry.

There were women visible amongst them now, though that term was generous. They were little more than girls. There were four of them being prodded along by several men, their hands bound in front of them. Each of them had visible cuts and bruises. They looked more subdued than she would have expected, and she guessed that they might be drugged. Their clothing and bone structure suggested they were natives, most likely from a nearby village.

Brennan wanted to linger, but Booth was tugging insistently on her arm. He'd seen the girls through his scope and understood the reason for her furious expression, but he knew full well that there was nothing they could do to help them. Brennan allowed him to guide her away from their hiding place, ducking under the foliage as quietly as possible until they were far enough away to set up their own camp.

Jackson called a briefing as soon as the tents were finished, and the unit gathered in the command tent. Brennan listened impatiently while the men discussed their coordinates and the watch schedule, waiting for someone to address the issue that was still weighing on her mind.

"Any questions?" Jackson asked perfunctorily.

"What about the girls?" Brennan demanded. Her expression was one of anger and confusion.

"I saw them," he replied, keeping his features neutral.

"So what are you going to do about it? They were beaten and probably drugged."

"Trafficking natives is nothing new for this guy, Dr. Brennan. We told you that when you arrived," Walker reminded her.

Brennan hadn't forgotten that discussion, but seeing it with her own eyes was different. Her face grew hot with anger when she recalled the appearance of those four girls. Though she'd always wanted to help save lives, witnessing the way the girls were being treated had put a real face on the situation. This mission was about much more than chasing an adrenaline rush now.

"So what will be done to save them?" Brennan persisted. Those who had been looking at her averted their eyes, with one exception. Booth watched her sympathetically, knowing that Major Jackson's next words would only make her angrier.

"This is an 'in and out' job, Dr. Brennan. Once the mission is accomplished, our orders are to haul ass out of this jungle as quickly as possible. We can try to set the women free, but it may not be possible."

"And then what? What if they're captured again? What if they get killed in the crossfire?"

"I'm sorry," Jackson replied, and he did look apologetic. "After the target is confirmed and eliminated, the highest priority is ensuring the safety of this unit. That includes you, Doctor."

"But-"

"Start the watch rotation, and the rest of you should eat and get some sleep. Dismissed."

"But you can't just-"

"Come on, Bones," Booth said quietly, taking her by the shoulders to usher her out of the tent. He was surprised that she didn't put up a fight - thankful too, as he recalled what she'd done to Leeds. When they had gained enough distance to provide a little privacy, she turned to face him.

"How can we just leave when they…?" She was flustered and visibly struggling to contain her outrage. "They're _children_ , Booth."

"I know," he nodded solemnly as he held her gaze. "We're going to get this guy, alright? We're going to stop him, and that means that a lot more people will be safe from him. We can't save everyone, Bones."

"I understand the logic of your statement, but I can't just run away when I know what will end up happening to those girls. They'll be sold as prostitutes or worse. I can't just-"

"We'll do our best to make sure they're set free," he interrupted her, more than a little concerned about the change in her choice of pronouns. "They're natives; they know the jungle. There's a good chance they'll make it back to their homes."

Brennan sighed and deflated a little as he pulled her into his arms. They were out of sight of the others, but in that moment, he wouldn't have cared who saw them. She melted into his embrace, encircling her arms around his back and burying her face against his shoulder. Booth felt her inhale deeply, taking comfort from his scent, and he did the same against her hair.

They held one another for several minutes, not bothering to speak. The overwhelming sense of peace was such that no words were necessary. Booth found himself marveling once more at her compassion, her strength, and her courage. She felt absolutely right in his arms, and it was as though someone had turned on a light in his mind. The realization crashed over him, and he wondered if she could feel his heart pounding.

He loved her _._

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As the last remains of daylight faded, Booth and Santana ate their rations in contemplative silence. Booth's mind was reeling from his unexpected epiphany, and he went in circles with himself as he argued the logic of it. He'd thought that he'd been in love once before with a girl he had dated in high school. He'd thought he'd known what love felt like.

He'd had no idea.

There was no comparing that meaningless teenage infatuation to what he was feeling now. For the first time, he thought he might truly understand the deep connection he'd seen between his grandparents, and now it was difficult to think of anything other than _her_.

Booth was desperate to know if she felt the same, but he knew this wasn't the time to bring it up. They needed to stay focused. He felt his protective instincts grow as he thought about the danger she was in now, and yet he still smiled. He knew exactly what his brave girl would say if she could hear his thoughts at that moment. He loved her courage just as much as he feared it.

"What's going on with you?" Santana asked, pulling Booth from his distraction.

"What do you mean?"

"You've got that goofy smile plastered on your face just about every time I look at you, Sarge. Not that you weren't cheerful before, but seriously, man. It's starting to give me the creeps," he teased. "Plus, you and the Doc are always making eyes at each other and touching each other when you think no one's looking. Something actually happen between you two?"

"You've been in the jungle too long, Streak. You're imagining things," Booth replied casually. Unfortunately, Brennan chose that moment to pass by them before settling onto the ground with her notebook in one hand and an MRE in the other. Booth knew he was wearing the same besotted grin Santana had commented on, but he couldn't seem to wipe it off his face. His friend chuckled knowingly.

"I'm happy for you, Sarge. You deserve it." They both watched Brennan for a moment before Santana asked the question that had been plaguing Booth for days. "So… what happens when the job is done?"

"I'm not completely sure yet," Booth answered. "But I want her in my life. If that means being done with the Army, then that's fine by me. I was on my way out anyway." Santana nodded and watched the couple trade furtive glances, unable to keep from smiling at their poor attempts to conceal their feelings.

Booth couldn't seem to look away from her, noting the way the setting sun brought out the various brunette tones in her hair. It was pulled up to reveal the elegant slope of her neck, and her head was tilted to the side as she sketched something in her notebook. Her bottom lip was trapped between her teeth, and Booth tried to adjust himself covertly as he watched her nibble the tender flesh. The longer he watched her, the more certain he became. He would never have his fill of looking at her.

He didn't just want to date her and spend time with her. He wanted to _belong to her_. The urge to tell her, even just to say the words out loud, was almost unbearable. Booth promised himself that he would do precisely that, just as soon as they were out of this mess.

Santana bade him goodnight, and Booth wasted no time in moving to sit next to Brennan. She smiled up at him, sending a rush of warmth radiating outward from his chest. He tilted his head to look at the notebook, and his brows rose in surprise.

"Wow," he said quietly, watching her add more details to the sketch. She'd drawn several variations of the human skull, but he didn't know enough to understand each picture. "Why so many?"

"This is what Ramirez looked like before," she explained, pointing to the first drawing and then the second. "And this is what Moreno looks like now. These show possible alterations that could have been made to transform one to the other," she added, pointing to three smaller sketches that looked like diagrams from a surgical textbook.

"That's really impressive," Booth smiled.

"Well, I'm not a forensic artist. I have a friend who could probably do a much better job, actually…"

"You know, Bones, you really should learn to take a compliment without arguing."

"Thank you," she smiled ruefully. "Though I assure you, I don't generally suffer the burden of modesty."

"Oh, I know," Booth chuckled. He gazed into her eyes for a few moments, and the tension between them began to rise. "So… Tomorrow morning you'll come with me and Santana to watch Moreno's camp for a while. The guy's gotta show his face sometime."

"And if we can free those girls, we will?" Anyone could see the hope in her expression. He hated the reality of the situation as much as she did, and he couldn't bring himself to upset her further.

"If there's an opportunity, we'll take it."

"Thank you, Booth."

"Don't thank me yet," he sighed. "There's no guarantee that we'll be able to help them. We'll just have to do our best. You should get some sleep."

"Will you stay with me again?" Brennan asked, the her tone now full of a very different kind of hope. "We can just sleep if you want, but I… I enjoyed last night very much."

"I did too." His grin was that of a lovesick fool, but he didn't care. Not as long as she wore one to match. "Why don't you go to bed, and I'll join you once I'm sure the coast is clear, alright?"

Brennan agreed and followed his suggestion. Once she'd finished getting ready for bed, she didn't have to wait long for Booth to make an appearance. He crawled into her tent and secured the flap behind him. In another moment they were lying in one another's arms, their bodies fitting together like corresponding puzzle pieces.

The day had been long and taxing, both physically and emotionally, and Brennan was amazed at the relief she felt in Booth's embrace. It was like coming home, which in itself was a bit of a foreign concept to her. She hadn't had a home since she was eight years old, but she vaguely remembered how it felt. It was warm, welcoming, and safe. Just like Booth.

Brennan pressed her ear to his chest and listened to his heartbeat, allowing the rhythmic sound to soothe her. Booth's stroked her hair and hummed contentedly. They lay in the darkness for several long minutes, neither moving nor speaking, but their physical attraction could only be ignored for so long.

Their lips were drawn together, finding each other in the darkness and meeting with a gentleness that belied the sudden arousal that had sparked between them. He was savoring her, and Brennan felt the same reverence in his kiss that she'd felt in his lovemaking the night before.

As the kiss grew in intensity, their hands explored at a pace that was almost feverish. They were stripped of their clothing in seconds, and with one stroke, Booth was buried within her. He groaned aloud at the delicious tightness of her sheath, enjoying the way she trembled beneath him. Knowing that she had been a virgin until the night before, he did his best to withhold the full measure of his passion, but Brennan was having none of that.

"Harder, Booth. _Please_ ," she whispered against his flushed skin.

He grunted in surrender and began to pound into her at a pace that was almost punishing. No matter how roughly or how gently he took her, he would always want more. _Need_ more. His desire for her was nearly overwhelming, and before he really had time to contemplate his actions, he was pulling out of her and flipping her onto her stomach.

Even if Brennan had minded his forcefulness, she couldn't have found the will to voice any objection. When he lifted her hips, she knew what was coming, but nothing could have prepared her for the exquisite pleasure she felt as he thrust into her from behind. The angle allowed him to push further into her wetness than before, and his speed picked up immediately.

The tent was full of the sounds of skin meeting skin and Booth's heavy breathing. The sounds emanating from Brennan, however, were nearly as animalistic as the ones that echoed through the jungle each night. It was without a doubt the hottest thing he'd ever heard. He knew that he should caution her to quiet down, but the knowledge that _he_ was the one bringing such a reaction from her spurred him on.

Brennan had known sex would be pleasurable, but she'd never imagined this. Booth's raw passion enveloped her, and yet he didn't make her feel as though he were merely using her body. One of his hands held her hip to keep her steady, but the other had snaked beneath her to rub her clit. Even in his heightened state of arousal, he was making a conscious effort to see to her pleasure before his own.

She buried her face in her sleeping bag and cried out as she detonated around him. Her spasmic clenching sent Booth over the edge as well, and he erupted within her. Brennan collapsed to the ground beneath him, utterly spent.

"Wow," she breathed.

"I'll second that." He tenderly stroked the side of her face from her temple to her chin. "You're an incredible woman, Temperance. There's not a single thing I'd change about you."

"I wouldn't change you either."

The 'L word' was on the tip of his tongue, but Booth forced himself to swallow it back. He knew that a proclamation like that so soon after meeting one another might send her running. At the very least, it would distract her from their mission, making their situation even more dangerous. Booth's arms tightened around her as the exhaustion of the day finally caught up with him.

Brennan lay awake in his arms for a little while, listening to his heart slow to a steady, resting beat. Her body was drained of energy, but her mind was still active. Unbeknownst to her, the thoughts that plagued her were the same ones Booth had been struggling with all evening.

She couldn't fathom how it might be possible to have fallen in love so quickly. Over the years that Brennan had spent in the system, it had become fairly easy to convince herself that the idea of love was likely nothing more than a chemical reaction in one's brain. In her twenty-two years, she'd never witnessed a love that withstood the test of time. It always seemed that someone left or disappeared… or died. It was possible, of course, that Brennan might feel differently about it if her parents' lives had played out differently, but she didn't make a habit of contemplating roads not traveled.

When she'd agreed to help the Army on this mission, she'd had no idea it would lead to something like this, and now she couldn't bring herself to pull away from it. After so many years of keeping people at arm's length, the difference in her feelings toward Booth was staggering. The thought of being separated from him made her heart clench. She wanted him close for as long as he would have her.

Brennan wished, not for the first time, that she were better at reading people. True, perception came easier with Booth, but she couldn't tell with absolute certainty whether or not he felt the same. She'd never been so fascinated by a living person. She studied his movements and expressions with the same diligence she might devote to a set of remains, and her body responded to every smile and swagger.

If her reactions had been merely physical, Brennan might've been inclined to shrug it off as the work of pheromones and high adrenaline, but Booth seemed to have taken over her mind as well as her body. Her thoughts were full of him whether he was nearby or not. She worried for his safety, empathized with his pain, wondered about his intentions… And on top of everything else, she couldn't deny the overwhelming affection she felt for him. Brennan knew instinctively that she would do anything to make sure he was safe and happy.

She couldn't think of a better way to define _love_.

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 **Things are moving right along... Let me know your thoughts! :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you for the reviews and encouragement! I'll be wrapping this up tomorrow. :)**

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Chapter 8

Everyone set out early the next morning. Brennan followed Booth and Santana toward the enemy camp again as the rest of the unit headed to their rendezvous points. They'd gone over the plan again before dispersing, and Booth had made sure to show her where to meet up with Walker in the event that she was able to confirm the ID. Booth would then take the shot, and if there were a way to free the girls they'd seen the day before, they would do so.

Santana had been avoiding eye contact with both Booth and Brennan all morning, and she suspected that he might have heard the sounds of their lovemaking. Their tents had been set up side-by-side. Brennan felt her face grow hot at the thought of someone else being privy to the kinds of noises Booth had inspired from her the night before. Her suspicions were confirmed as they were preparing to separate from the rest of the unit. She'd stepped away to retrieve the binoculars from Major Jackson, and when she returned, she overheard Santana teasing his friend in a sing-song voice.

"Booth and Brennan, sittin' in a tree. F-U-C-K-I-N-G…"

"Yeah, yeah," Booth grumbled. "Shut up, Streak. I need you focused."

"Maybe I'd be better focused if I'd been able to get to sleep at a reasonable hour last night," he chuckled. A stern look from Booth silenced him, but the smile didn't leave his face. Brennan returned to them, and Santana went back to his previous attitude of avoidance.

"I apologize if we kept you awake," Brennan said boldly. "Perhaps next time I'll ask Booth to cover my mouth."

Santana seemed to inhale his own saliva and fell into a fit of coughing, but Booth smiled appreciatively at her words. He liked that she was outspoken, and he had to admit that the image she'd presented was a tempting one. He adjusted himself covertly and gave her a devious grin. She returned it, still smirking a little at Santana's reaction.

They set off through the jungle, once again in single file with Brennan in the middle. The unit had made their own camp a little further away this time, so it took nearly an hour to reach their destination. Booth found a reasonably close vantage point, and the three took cover amongst the undergrowth and foliage. They were forced to lie on their stomachs, Brennan using her binoculars and the two soldiers observing through their scopes.

She studied the faces of the insurgents one by one, recognizing some of them from previous attempts to catch sight of Moreno. There appeared to be a bit less activity in the camp than the last time they'd watched. The setup had been completed, and now only a few men were milling about, other than those who stood guard. Brennan kept her eyes and ears open for signs of the young girls, but she couldn't tell which tent they were being held in.

In addition to their sleeping quarters, Moreno's men had also constructed the makings of a rudimentary drug lab. They seemed to be processing cocaine. Brennan knew enough about the drug to be disgusted by what she saw, and she wondered what sort of people would commit to living in these circumstances for what was most likely a meager cut of a very large payoff.

Her curiosity was piqued by a sudden increase in noise and activity within the camp. A feminine shout of outrage rang out from the tent nearest to their position, followed by a long string of curses and verbal abuse. Even Booth, who knew very little Spanish, could deduce the meaning of the unknown man's words. Brennan was appalled at what she was hearing, but her secondary reaction was excitement. The native girls were close, perhaps near enough to reach if they chose their moment very carefully.

The shouting grew louder, and a moment later, a man was dragging one of the young girls out of the tent. Her wrists were bound, and he clutched the rope to pull her along behind him. Her knees scraped the ground as she was either too upset or too incapacitated to walk. Brennan watched through the binoculars as he pulled her to a tent near the center of the camp and disappeared inside.

Booth exchanged a loaded glance with Santana and pointed to the tent the man and girl had entered. He had a gut feeling that the girl had just been brought to Moreno, and Santana nodded to indicate that he was of the same opinion. The three of them watched and waited for another half hour or so, and when at last there was more movement from the tent in question, Brennan's adrenaline spiked.

Moreno had finally shown his face.

He stood in the entrance, adjusting his belt and sneering at the girl that was being led out of his tent. She had a few more bruises now, but Brennan forced herself to stay focused on Moreno. Her mind ticked off a mental checklist of attributes she'd memorized when studying the old photographs of Ramirez. She only needed to see him take a few steps to be sure…

Fate, it seemed, had decided to favor them, because at that moment Moreno's attention was drawn across the encampment toward the makeshift drug lab. His second in command was asking him to check their work, and he began to stride toward them. Brennan watched him intently, analyzing each shift in his gait in search of the anomaly she'd seen in the old video footage.

 _And there it is,_ she thought. _Left hand dominance and spinal abnormality._ Juan Luis Moreno was, in fact, Diego Ramirez. She lowered the binoculars and locked eyes with Booth.

"It's Ramirez," she whispered, so low that the words were almost inaudible even to her.

"You're sure?" he mouthed back. She nodded quickly, her pulse quickening as her gaze swept the rest of the camp. There were men with guns _everywhere_. She could spot at least fifteen rifles, and some of them carried handguns as well. Brennan felt a nudge from Booth, and she glanced back at him. "Go," he whispered, his eyes intense.

"I'm not leaving you."

"Yes, you are. _Go. Now._ "

Brennan shook her head stubbornly. She would wait until he'd taken the shot, and then they could all make a run for it together. _A few seconds won't make that much difference,_ she reasoned. Booth clenched his teeth and pulled a pistol from his boot. He thrust it into her hand and directed his next words to Santana.

"Be ready to run, and stay with her no matter what."

Santana nodded and returned his eye to the scope, whispering the distance and wind speed so that Booth could make adjustments. Ramirez had two of his men standing right next to him, but he was giving them orders. As soon as they moved to obey, Booth had an open shot.

And he took it.

Chaos erupted at the sound of the gunshot. A dark hole had appeared in Ramirez's forehead, and he fell to the ground in a heap. Exclamations of shock and anger filled the air, and Brennan felt Booth lift her from the ground. Two frantic heartbeats later, they were moving through the jungle again, weaving through the maze of trees as quickly and quietly as possible.

The shouts of Ramirez's men faded slightly, but only a few minutes later, Booth turned back abruptly and signaled the others to stop as well. He held a finger to his lips, and they all listened intently. It only took a moment to confirm his suspicion.

They were being followed.

The nearest rendezvous point was still a good distance from them, and Ramirez's men were gaining ground quickly. Booth moved forward again, this time in a different direction. The last thing he wanted was to lead the enemy right to the rest of his unit, especially since he had no idea how many were tracking them. They needed to lose them in the jungle and then double back.

"Should we split up, Sarge? Try to confuse them?"

"No, we stay together," Booth answered, breathing heavily with their quickened pace. "As soon as there's a place to hide, we'll go to ground and wait 'em out."

They ran through the trees for another quarter mile before Booth spotted a suitable hiding place. It was a dense growth of trees and foliage that had formed a thicket of sorts and had likely been home to an animal at one time. Once the three had squeezed into the small space, they were well concealed. The air was filled with the sounds of their heavy breathing, but no one spoke for several minutes. They each listened intently for the approach of anyone unfriendly.

"Should we radio back to the Major?" Santana whispered.

"Negative. Radio silence other than Morse, and even then, only when the extraction is a go. At least a dozen of those guys were carrying sat phones or transmitters. Can't risk giving away our position." Booth had already considered sending a brief message to Jackson to warn them that the enemy was in pursuit, but he'd decided it could do more harm than good.

"How long do we stay here?" Brennan asked in a low voice.

Booth turned and took a moment to really look at her. Her lips were parted, her breathing was still rapid, and her eyes were wide and bright. They held his gaze only fleetingly as they darted around the small enclosure and back to him repeatedly. It only took him a moment to read her, and he was a little startled at the obvious conclusion. She was _excited_. Not frightened, not nervous. _Excited._

"Until the coast is clear," Booth replied. "Shouldn't take too long. They'll go back to their camp to regroup."

Brennan's head bobbed quickly in response, and she avoided his eyes again. Something about his assessing gaze made her feel suddenly exposed, as though he knew precisely what she was feeling at that moment and strongly disapproved of it. Her muscles twitched involuntarily with untapped energy, and she had a brief wave of dizziness as she tried to quiet her pounding heart. This was the high she'd been chasing for nearly ten years, but Booth's concerned expression made her feel strangely embarrassed of it. She forced herself to meet his eyes and gave him an apologetic smile.

"Sorry," she whispered. He regarded her warily.

"Just keep your head on straight. No crazy stuff. You promised."

"I know."

Santana glanced at Booth curiously, but kept silent. As the three of them lay hidden and waiting, Brennan worked to calm her body slowly. The last thing she needed was to add an adrenaline crash to their troubles.

"It's been long enough," Santana whispered after a half hour of waiting in silence. "They'll have gone by now." Booth nodded in agreement and adjusted his rifle.

"I'll do a quick check to make sure-"

"No, I'll go, Sarge. Stay with the Doc. If anything goes wrong, you've got a better chance of getting her out of here safely."

Booth wanted to argue further, but he knew that his friend was right. He had a better knowledge of their location, and he was a better shot. His instinct to lead warred with his desire to protect Brennan as well as humanly possible, and after a moment, he reluctantly nodded his assent.

Santana double-checked his weapon and crawled out of their hiding place. Booth and Brennan listened to his footsteps circle their location and then fade slightly. They watched through gaps in the undergrowth as he surveyed the area, sometimes utilizing his scope for better visibility.

"When we get out of here, we're going to have to move quickly," Booth whispered. "Faster than before. It won't take these guys long to regroup. I need you to-"

Booth's words were interrupted by the shouts of multiple Spanish-speaking men, drawing their attention back to Santana. The soldier raised his weapon and fired two shots, but the volume of the approaching voices grew louder as they approached. Santana turned away from the thicket and ducked quickly through the jungle, clearly attempting to lead the insurgents away from Booth and Brennan. The men followed him, firing shots of their own in Santana's direction.

"Fuck!" Booth swore under his breath, his expression angry and a little panicked. Brennan's eyes were wide, dancing around their limited view of the forest as she watched the men disappear into the distance. In another moment, all was silent again.

"Booth…" she whispered. His eyes were fixed on the trees, watching for signs of movement, but he could hear the change in her voice. Her tone was now thick with the fear that had been strangely absent before.

"Just wait. Stay calm," he told her. "They'll want him alive to question him. They'll want to know what an American soldier is doing in their jungle."

" _Question_ him?"

Booth looked at her then and saw that her eyes were swimming with unshed tears. He knew that she understood precisely what sort of 'questioning' Ramirez's men would be putting Santana through. The knowledge wasn't sitting well with him either.

"He won't break," Booth promised. Of that, he was absolutely certain. "And we'll get him back. We won't leave a man behind."

Brennan swallowed thickly and nodded, but she couldn't summon the words to ask how they would get him back. Her mind was replaying the conversation she'd had with Santana the day he'd picked her up from the airport in Pasto. She'd counted signs of at least fourteen individual injuries to his phalanges. She had deduced that he and Booth had been captured and tortured together, and the thought of either of them going through that a second time made her want to vomit.

The sounds of footsteps through the leaves alerted them again, and they watched as three of Ramirez's men came back into view. Two carried Santana's limp form between them, and the third carried his confiscated rifle. Booth lifted his own weapon, but he didn't have a clear shot. There was no way to ensure that he wouldn't accidentally hit Santana as well. He clenched his jaw in frustration as the men disappeared again.

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It was almost an hour before Booth felt it was safe enough to make a run for it, and by the time they regrouped with the rest of the unit, Santana had been captive for several hours. Jackson was visibly frustrated and demanded a full recounting of the events. Booth glossed over the fact that Brennan had refused to follow the order to leave after making the ID, but her guilty conscience forced her to speak up.

"So everything went according to plan up until the point that Dr. Brennan refused to follow your orders," he snapped. Brennan's heart sank, her expression full of guilt and regret. Booth glanced at her and shook his head emphatically.

"It would've gone down the same way," he told them both. "Even if she'd followed the instructions to the letter, they still would have pursued us, Sir. Actually, if she'd acted differently, she'd have been alone in the jungle when they came after us. They'd have captured her as well."

Jackson glowered at Booth for a moment but relented, turning the discussion to their options for the rescue mission. Brennan listened as they all traded ideas, but part of her mind was still consumed by guilt. In spite of Booth's opinion, she knew that her presence could very well have contributed to this outcome.

Perhaps Santana might not have been captured if Booth had been less concerned with _her_ safety and more focused on making sure his friend got out safely. This was precisely the kind of 'distraction' Booth had spoken of when they'd discussed why it was best to keep their budding relationship a secret.

"We need to wait for nightfall," Walker announced. "But it's got to be tonight. Before they have a chance to pick up and move camp again."

"How do we know he's even still alive?" Leeds asked, his usual arrogance only slightly repressed.

"They'll want to know what he knows. And how many more of us there are."

"Then they'll try to ransom him back to the US or even the Colombian government. He's worth more to them alive," Jackson added.

"They won't get anything out of him," Booth said confidently. The rest of the men nodded, knowing full well that he had good reason for his certainty.

"I want to help," Brennan spoke up. The immediate arguments from all directions was not unanticipated, but she drew herself up and defended her cause. "You'd either have to leave me here alone or be a man short, and I'm a good shot. I can help."

" _How_ good?" Morris asked skeptically.

"I've qualified at sharpshooter level for both rifles and pistols." Her words were met with a number of raised eyebrows and at least one impressed whistle.

"Hate to say it, but she's right, Major," Walker agreed reluctantly. "I know you weren't planning to leave her alone, so six shooters are better than four." Jackson didn't seem convinced.

"If you leave me behind, I'll just follow you on my own, which would be even more dangerous." Booth's eyes widened, and he knew that she wasn't bluffing. Brennan stood with her arms crossed stubbornly over her chest, waiting for an answer.

"Sir?" Booth spoke up. "I'll take personal responsibility for her safety. Captain Walker's right; we need another shooter."

"Fine," Jackson relented, fixing a stern eye on Brennan. "You have to follow orders just like the rest of the unit, Dr. Brennan. No exceptions. And you're to stay next to Booth unless directed otherwise."

"That won't be a problem," she promised. "Thank you."

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 **Poor Santana. :/ BB to the rescue! One more to go. Leave me some love. :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**This is it, folks! Thank you for your reviews, support, and encouragement. And a special thanks to my wonderful beta, chosenname! :)**

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Chapter 9

"You're sure you want to do this?"

"Booth, you're _not_ leaving me behind. Now give me the damn gun." He handed Brennan a Beretta and watched her check the magazine with a well-practiced hand.

"Have you shot an M9 before?"

"Yes. Though, to be honest, I prefer my Glock. Do you have extra ammunition?" Her voice shook slightly as she tried to shake off her nerves. She was simultaneously anxious and excited about the danger they were facing, and she knew that neither emotion was going to help her to stay focused. Booth passed her two extra magazines, which she pocketed in her oversized camouflaged jacket.

"Here," he said, handing her a set of night-vision binoculars. "Try not to rely on them too much. Use your other senses whenever possible. We know from our scouting trips that they keep their camp lit with battery operated lanterns and flashlights, so the visibility will be a little better once we get there."

"And you're sure there will only be a handful of men on watch?"

"We've never seen more than two or three at a time, usually circling the perimeter. Now they have a hostage though," he grimaced. "I'm sure their patterns will have changed a little tonight, but they have to sleep sometime."

Booth was doing his best to think of anything other than what his friend was most likely enduring at the hands of Ramirez's lackeys. The group was not known for their humanity, and he had been told enough about Ramirez's second in command to know that their tactics would probably change very little with Ramirez's death. The thought of what they could find when they reached the insurgents' camp made him shudder.

"Don't forget, Bones; you have to-"

"Stay close to you," she interrupted with a nod. But where she might once have rolled her eyes at his overprotective nature, her features now showed only determination and acceptance. "I know. I promised I would follow orders, and I will. I'm sorry I didn't before." Her chin trembled a little with her last words, and Booth placed his palm against her cheek.

"This isn't your fault. I said it before, and I meant it. But I'm glad that you're taking it seriously. You stay behind me as much as possible, alright?"

"I'll have your back," she promised. Booth couldn't hold back a small grin at her sincerity. There weren't many in the world that he trusted to fulfill that role, but Brennan was already on that list. As worried as he might be that she could be hurt, he realized that her presence tonight was reassuring. He trusted her skill as well as her loyalty.

Once the unit was armed and ready, they made their way through the jungle, falling into single file once again. Brennan was overly aware of Santana's absence from the formation, and she forced herself not to glance behind her. It would be Morris's haughty expression she would see rather than Santana's friendly one. Instead, she focused on Booth's form through the eerily green view of her binoculars. There was enough moonlight to see moving shapes, but the last thing she wanted to do was trip and make too much noise.

No one spoke as they approached the enemy camp. As Booth had promised, the area was illuminated by artificial light. There weren't enough lanterns to give full visibility, but it was enough that they could dispense with the night-vision devices. Jackson used hand signals to direct the unit to split off into pairs and approach the camp from different directions.

Booth and Brennan moved cautiously around the clearing on the south-west side, and Brennan recognized the area they'd occupied earlier that day. Her eyes immediately gravitated toward the tent that was being used to confine the native girls, and she hoped that they hadn't been moved. Her focus had been shifted after Booth had taken the shot and Santana had been captured, but she hadn't forgotten those young women. It hadn't been possible to free them before, but it seemed as though fate, if there were such a thing, was giving her another chance.

Booth followed her gaze and nodded to show that he understood what she wanted to do, but he held up a finger to regain her full attention. He pointed out the two guards who were easily visible from their hidden vantage point. Brennan saw him slip a large hunting knife from his boot, pursing her lips in grim determination. Their best odds were to disable the guards and search each structure for Santana, and to do so would require the use of a weapon much quieter than a firearm.

Brennan fell into step behind Booth, both hands on her gun as they crept toward the pair of men. Booth slipped into the shadows behind them, and she watched in amazement as he disabled them with quick efficiency. The knife had been drawn across their throats and their weapons confiscated before either man had time to raise the alarm.

Booth forced himself to keep his eyes on his surroundings rather than her face, unsure if he would be able to stomach the look of fear and disgust that he imagined she'd be wearing. Pulling a trigger was one thing; cutting a man's throat with the skill of a trained assassin was another. If he'd had the courage to look at her, however, he would have seen nothing but the same expression of intense determination she'd had all day. There was no trace of judgment in her eyes, and when Booth handed her one of the rifles he'd pulled off the guards, she accepted it without hesitation.

Walker and Leeds had taken out two more sentinels, and a fifth guard had been neutralized by Jackson and Morris. The three teams crept warily from tent to tent, checking for any sign of their comrade. All was calm and quiet for several minutes after they began their search, but their luck didn't hold out for long.

As Booth led Brennan toward the tent that had held the native girls, the night air was pierced by a man's cry of alarm. It was silenced by a gunshot. They couldn't be certain which side had fired first, but it was clear that silence was no longer necessary. The noise had awakened most of Ramirez's men, and everyone was now armed and alert.

The first man to cross Booth's path emerged from the nearest tent and immediately raised his weapon to fire, but Booth put a bullet between the man's eyes before he could pull the trigger. They stepped over his body to enter the tent, and Brennan was relieved to see the young girls inside. The noise had woken them as well, and they looked terrified.

"No tengas miedo," Brennan said gently. "Estamos aquí para ayudarte."

"Let's make it quick, Bones. If they're lucky, no one will even notice they're gone until after we leave."

They worked together to free the girls from the ropes that bound their wrists and ankles, helping them to stand on wobbly feet. Fortunately, they all looked a little more aware than the last time Brennan had seen them, and she hoped that meant that whatever they'd been dosed with was wearing off.

"Corre a casa lo más rápido posible," she instructed. The girls huddled together and moved toward the open tent flap. The eldest broke away and hugged Brennan tightly.

"Gracias," she whispered, her voice full of fear and gratitude in equal measure. Brennan squeezed her back for just a moment before urging them all out of the tent. Booth led the way back toward the perimeter at a run, and they watched the girls disappear into the darkness.

"Do you think they'll make it?" Brennan asked.

"I hope so. We did what we could for them. Come on."

As they moved through the camp, it was clear that sneaking around was no longer appropriate. The others in the unit were defending themselves with their weapons or in hand-to-hand combat, and Booth shouted an unnecessary reminder for Brennan to stay behind him. She hadn't allowed more than a foot of space between them since they'd left their own campsite.

Gunshots filled the air every few seconds, and working their way through the maze of tents seemed to take an eternity. They were constantly waylaid by men trying to subdue them, and Brennan quickly lost count of how many they had evaded. One of the insurgents took aim at Booth from behind, and Brennan fired a shot that hit the man square in the chest.

"Nice shot," Booth shouted, visibly shocked at her skill as well as the close call.

"Thanks." And in spite of the chaos, she couldn't help but smile just a little.

Her adrenaline peaked as she saw two more men approach them. They were tall, thickly muscled, and armed with machetes. There wasn't time to fire a shot before the men were close enough to strike, but Brennan felt that her close combat skills were stronger anyway. Booth fought one while she took the other.

Her opponent slashed his machete through the air in her direction, but Brennan dodged it successfully and landed a hard kick to his midsection. When he doubled over, she shoved the heel of her hand upward into his jaw. A quick elbow to his wrist while he was disoriented caused him to drop the machete, but before she could retrieve it and turn it on him, the man recovered enough to land a solid punch to her temple.

Brennan fell to the ground and struggled to remain conscious through the jarring pain in her head. The man picked up the knife and began to drag her away by her arms, and Brennan fought to escape his grasp. She heard a growl of outrage and forced her eyes to focus in spite of the pain. Two shots were followed with corresponding thumps, and her assailant's grip slackened.

"Are you alright?" Booth shouted over the continuous noise. The fury that had coursed through him when he'd seen her take that punch had caused his body and voice to shake. He felt his own adrenaline surging as he got a good look at the wound on her head, and he briefly considered shooting the man again for good measure.

"I'll be fine; we need to move."

Two tents and three bullets later, they located Santana. He was bound, gagged, and badly beaten. Brennan knelt on the ground next to him and pressed her fingertips to his carotid. His pulse was faint but steady.

"He's alive, Booth." Santana stirred as they cut through the ropes and removed his gag.

"Hey, Streak. Come on, now. Up you go," Booth encouraged. His friend grumbled but did his best to cooperate while Booth and Brennan pulled his arms over their shoulders. His feet stumbled and dragged over the uneven ground, but they were able to make it to the tree line with only a few more one-handed shots fired from Brennan's gun.

Booth placed two fingers in his mouth and made a loud, shrieking whistle to signal to the rest of the unit that it was time to go. He and Brennan moved through the forest with Santana between them, looking back every so often to make sure that they were being followed by friends rather than enemies. The darkness was thick as they got further from the camp, but the moonlight was shining a little brighter.

After about fifteen minutes, Jackson signaled the group to stop, and it was only then that Brennan realized that Leeds was being carried in much the same manner as Santana. But even in the darkness, she could see the difference. Leeds was dead.

"I radioed ahead for the extraction protocol, but we've still got another mile or so to go," Jackson announced. "Does anyone need emergency treatment that can't wait?" A chorus of 'No, Sir' circled through the group, and he ordered them to get moving again. The throbbing in Brennan's temple intensified as she fought a wave of dizziness and nausea. She also had half a dozen questions, but she knew there would be time for them later.

Booth did his best to ignore the blinding pain in his feet that was brought on by Santana's extra weight. He focused instead on making sure that Brennan was managing the burden, but it was a little too dark to read her expression.

"You alright, Bones?" he whispered.

"I'm fine," she grunted back, sounding as though her teeth were clenched.

"You're not 'fine.' That asshole hit you pretty hard."

"Then why did you ask?" she groaned. Booth sighed, not able to come up with a logical answer. Brennan mistook his response for injured feelings and immediately backpedaled. "Sorry. I have a headache, but I'll be okay. Really."

"We'll get it looked at as soon as we're out of here," he promised. She wanted to decline but didn't feel like arguing with him about it.

Within a few minutes of arriving at the small clearing designated for their extraction protocol, the sound of a helicopter could be heard in the distance. They stayed out of sight until the chopper touched down, and Jackson herded them all into their seats before taking his own. Booth strapped Santana into a seat next to Brennan and then took the one on her opposite side.

"Is there a medic kit on board?" Brennan asked once they were in the air. The cabin light allowed her to survey Santana's injuries, and he had more than one cut that would need stitches. However, she was relieved to find that his previously injured fingers had suffered no further damage. The co-pilot handed her a zippered nylon bag adorned with a red cross. She quickly removed the necessary supplies and turned her attention back to Santana. "These wounds need to be cleaned as soon as possible. You're at a high risk of infection."

"Thanks, Doc," he replied, wincing at the sting of the alcohol on an open cut. "I'm sure I'll survive. Won't be a long flight…"

"Where _are_ we going?" Brennan asked, addressing no one in particular as she focused on her task.

"The American embassy in Quito," Walker answered.

"Ecuador."

"Yeah, the border is a lot closer than Bogotá."

Brennan nodded and continued to examine Santana's injuries. She felt for broken bones and carefully checked the remodeled fractures in his fingers, feeling Booth's eyes on her.

"I don't feel any fractures, but you should have x-rays just in case," she told Santana. She wrestled a penlight from the medic bag and moved it back and forth in front of his face. "And I think you need a head CT."

"Thought you were a scientist rather than a medical doctor," Morris said skeptically.

"That's correct, but I'm trained in first aid, and I know how to spot a head injury." He harrumphed a little in response. "What happened to Corporal Leeds?"

"Took a shot to the chest," Walker replied. "Went pretty quickly."

Everyone fell silent as their gazes fell upon the man's body. Brennan certainly hadn't been fond of him, but any loss of life was regrettable. All things considered, however, she felt that they had probably been fairly lucky to make it out with the majority of the unit intact. Each man was sporting superficial injuries, but even Santana's wounds weren't life threatening.

"Why didn't they follow us?" Brennan asked, voicing the question that had been nagging since they'd made their escape.

"Too unorganized," Jackson explained. "In one day, we took out Ramirez, his number two, and at least a dozen others. They couldn't pull it together quickly enough to come after us."

"Small favors," Booth said quietly.

Brennan met his eyes and was taken aback by the emotion she saw in them. Reading people had never come easily for her, but with Booth, it felt as though the words were written plainly on his face. And with what she saw at that moment, she dared to hope that he just might love her back. She smiled and lowered her eyes shyly.

As she set about returning the medical supplies to the bag, another wave of dizziness swept over her, and she swayed in her seat. It didn't go unnoticed.

"Hey, why don't you sit back, alright? You took a hard one too. Shouldn't someone be checking _you_ for head trauma?"

He fussed over her a little, securing the shoulder straps she'd neglected to connect, and Brennan was exhausted enough to allow it. When his hand brushed her hair out of the way, he was surprised to see a streak of blood over his knuckles.

"You're bleeding," he said anxiously. Brennan flinched when his fingertips came into contact with the open wound at her hairline. "Sorry. Damn it… It's bleeding a lot. Why didn't you say something?"

"It's a minor abrasion, Booth. It's only bleeding like that because there are a higher number of blood vessels close to the surface of the face and scalp than there are in most other parts of the body. It will stop soon."

"Does she always talk like that?" Walker smirked.

"Yes," Booth and Brennan answered in unison. Their eyes met again, and neither could conceal their smile. She allowed him to clean her wound and apply pressure until the bleeding had stopped.

Less than five minutes later, she'd fallen asleep, and her head had dropped to rest on his shoulder. Before he could stop himself, Booth's lips were pressed against the top of her head, and the helicopter's other occupants wore a variety of expressions. Walker and Santana sported identical smiles of encouragement. Jackson looked on with reluctant approval, and Morris pointedly ignored them, his mouth twisted as though he had tasted something foul.

Booth grinned back at them briefly before returning his attention to Brennan. He watched her chest rise and fall steadily, and he counted the minutes until they landed safely. The danger was past them now, but he didn't know how much time they would have together before they were separated by their circumstances. He knew one thing for certain, however.

He loved her. And he wasn't going to let her leave without knowing it.

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It was nearly dawn when they arrived at the American embassy in Ecuador. While Jackson was arranging the details of their brief stay, the rest of the unit took turns in the infirmary. There was a doctor on staff, but they didn't have the imaging equipment to run the tests that Santana needed. He would have to be transported to the nearest hospital for a more thorough evaluation. Santana rolled his eyes at the turn in the conversation.

"Nah, just stitch me up and give me some antibiotics. I'll be fine."

"He'll go for the testing," Brennan contradicted, speaking over his head directly to the physician. "X-ray and CT. He had irregular pupillary responses, light sensitivity, and dizziness on the flight."

"Who said I was dizzy?"

"It was obvious. You're going to the hospital." Her tone was firm but more patient than Booth would have expected, considering her current state.

"You should go too. He wasn't the only one feeling dizzy," he reminded her. She silenced him with a look.

"It's just a shallow laceration and possibly a low grade concussion. There's nothing to be done but let it heal," Brennan said confidently. The doctor had already examined her and spoke up to agree with her self-diagnosis. Booth sighed in reluctant acceptance, and he waited until he and Brennan were leaving the infirmary to make a stipulation.

"If you're not going to go for an x-ray, then you at least have to stay with me tonight in case you start feeling worse."

"So you can keep an eyeball on me?" she smirked. He grinned back and decided not to correct her misuse of the common phrase.

"And a hand," he added, his eyes gleaming. "Maybe _two_ hands… Lips…" Brennan laughed quietly and took his hand as they made their way toward their sleeping quarters.

"Sounds perfect."

Booth and Santana had been assigned to the same room, and Brennan warned that it was likely he would return from the hospital after a few hours. As such, they opted to stay in Brennan's room instead. When she saw the soft, welcoming bed, the ache in her body seemed to intensify, but there was something she wanted even more.

"Shower," Booth declared, as though reading her mind. Brennan nodded gratefully and followed him into the en suite.

They removed their clothing piece by piece, silently checking each other's bodies for any injury that might have been missed. They were both relieved to find nothing more serious than a few scrapes and bruises. As they took turns washing one another gently, Brennan noticed the wistful look in his eyes.

"What is it?" she asked, her brow wrinkled in concern. Booth expelled a long sigh and pulled her into his arms beneath the stream of hot water.

"We were so lucky, Bones. Lucky that their leaders could be dealt with first, lucky that we only suffered one fatality… We were extremely outnumbered, but we still managed to get our guy back _and_ release civilian hostages. It could easily have been so much worse."

"I know," Brennan agreed softly. "I don't really believe in 'luck' per se, but things could certainly have ended worse than they did." She tilted her head to look at him and brushed her lips against his. They kissed and held one another until the water grew tepid. "What do we sleep in?"

"Our skin," he chuckled. Their spare clothing had been sent to the laundry when they arrived, but they were in a government-run facility rather than a hotel. Neither of them had thought to ask for a change of clothing. "We'll get our stuff back in the morning. Let's just go to bed, alright?"

Booth groaned in appreciation when his head hit the pillow, saying a quick prayer of thanks for soft beds and clean sheets. His gratitude increased exponentially when Brennan settled herself in his arms. Her skin was still warm from the shower, and every sweet inch of it was pressed against him. His body responded to her, but he ignored it. They were both exhausted, and simply holding her close was enough for him.

"What happens tomorrow?" she whispered. He could hear the apprehension in her voice, and he squeezed her a little more tightly.

"Debriefing and then... they'll make arrangements to ship us back home," he sighed. "What about you?"

"I'll probably go back to Peru. There's at least another month's worth of work to do."

"Even with a head injury?"

"I'll be fine," Brennan said automatically. He wondered if the word 'fine' was some sort of Pavlovian response for her. When he got a closer look at her expression, however, he could see her hesitation. Brennan's thoughts were on her work. She'd recovered from this kind of injury before, but working the kind of hours she usually kept in the field would be difficult. She decided not to voice the concern; Booth looked worried enough already.

"Look…" He took a deep breath and plunged onward. "What if you didn't go back to Peru?"

"What do you mean?" Her brow furrowed, and he smoothed it with his thumb.

"What if you came home with me instead?"

" _Home?"_ Brennan echoed. Her mind was suddenly full of questions. What exactly was he asking her? And why?

"Yeah, I want to visit my grandfather first, but then I want to move to DC."

"And you want me to come with you?"

"Of course," he smiled, holding her gaze. "I'm in love with you, Temperance. I know it's really fast, and maybe it's too soon to be saying that, but I need you to know. You don't have to say it back or-" Her fingertips touched his lips to silence him, and a slow smile of amazement lit her features.

"I love you too. I thought I was going insane for becoming so attached so quickly, but my emotions aren't responding to logic…" The words spilled out of her, and Booth's mouth was curved into an identical smile of pure joy.

"Love isn't logical, baby. I've never felt like this about anyone, and I don't care how fast it happened. Having more time together wouldn't make it any less real. Actually, I think it would only make me love you more." They kissed for several long minutes, their energy levels recovering slightly, if only temporarily. When at last they came up for air, Brennan snuggled into his chest and stroked his back.

"So… DC?" she asked, still grinning blissfully.

"Yeah. I want to join the FBI and find a place there. The training will be in Virginia, and it'll take a couple of months, but I think we can handle that." She nodded in agreement.

"You're sure about leaving the Army?"

"Yes," he replied confidently. "I love serving my country, but this isn't the only way to do it. I've had to take so many lives. I'd like to put away at least as many murderers." He closed his eyes briefly to push away the reminder of how many more lives he'd been forced to take that very night.

"I'm sure you will," she agreed, placing a hand on his bristled jaw. "The idea of some sort of… cosmic balance sheet isn't really rational, but if it helps you to move on, then you should do it."

"Thanks, Bones," Booth smiled. "What about you? I meant it when I said I wanted you with me. I want to start the next chapter of our lives _together_. I'd love you to meet Pops, and if you have a shot at that job in DC…"

"I do. They've been trying to get me there for a while now. It's something I saw myself doing eventually; I just hadn't decided when." She paused and placed a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth. "I'll call them as soon as we're back in the country."

"Really?" He was grinning like an idiot again, and she laughed.

"Yes, really. But for now, _Special Agent_ Booth, I think I have just a little more energy to expend. Perhaps you could help me with that?"

"Oh, Dr. Brennan," he said smoothly, rolling her onto her back. "I'm always happy to help."

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 _Epilogue_

 _One year later…_

The noisy percussion of gunshots grew louder as Brennan stowed her belongings in a locker and headed into the shooting range. Her eyes scanned the row booths for her fiancé, and she was unsurprised to see three perfect holes in the center of his target. She moved to stand behind him, waiting patiently until he'd emptied his clip.

"This is starting to happen a lot, you know," she said, speaking loudly enough that he could hear her through his protective headphones. Booth removed them and turned to smile at her.

"It's good for blowing off steam," he shrugged. Her words were accurate; they'd been meeting at the shooting range after work at least twice a week for the past month.

"I thought we'd already come up with a way to do that. A pretty nice one, if you ask me…" Booth laughed and kissed her hello, silently agreeing with her idea. _Later..._

"How was work?"

"Fine. Though, by the looks of it, I should be asking you that," Brennan replied, gesturing to the tattered paper target. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah…" Her expression told him that his tone was unconvincing. "We can talk about it later. You're up."

Booth put up a fresh target and traded places with her, watching proudly as she landed every round in the center of the target. Though they had joked about sex being a better way to release excess energy, Booth had to admit that he loved watching her shoot. In fact, their evening target practices had become another kind of foreplay. It got his blood pumping every time.

When they got in the car a short while later, Brennan found a casefile sitting on the passenger seat.

"Bringing more work home?" she asked, placing the file on her lap and buckling her seat belt. Booth put the car in gear and headed toward their favorite restaurant.

"Kind of. I was hoping you'd take a look at it."

"Me?"

"Yeah," he grinned. "Right now it's just a file, but there's a set of remains to go with it. Cam said she can release them to you if you're willing to help."

"Cam's involved in the case?"

"She did the autopsy. Victim was last seen here, but her body was found in a New York landfill."

Brennan nodded and opened the file, flipping to Cam's autopsy report first. Booth had introduced them several months ago, and although some might find it odd that she was on friendly terms with her fiancé's ex, Brennan and Cam got along fairly well. They respected one another as colleagues in similar fields, even if they didn't always agree on the details.

When they arrived at Wong Foos, Brennan brought the file with her and continued to page through it while they waited for Sid to bring their meals. She closed the file each time someone passed their table, having already been on the receiving end of a lecture from Sid about bringing in pictures of dead people.

"Gemma Arrington," she read aloud, looking at a photograph of a young woman with curly hair. "It looks like Cam has already made the ID and determined cause of death. What is it you want me to help with?"

"Help me figure out who killed her. I've got a suspect, but I need proof."

"You've got a _suspect_ or a _gut feeling_?" she smirked.

"Both." They chuckled in unison at their private joke.

"Cam didn't clean the bones, of course," Brennan observed as she looked at the autopsy photos. "It's possible that there is forensic evidence left in the bones."

"Bugs or boiling?" he asked, wincing into his fried rice. She squinted a little at the pictures.

"Boiling, I think."

"Are you sure of the ID? Because Angela could help with a facial reconstruction," she added hopefully. She'd been trying to convince Angela to come work with her as a forensic artist, but her free spirited friend was a little resistant to the idea of working with human remains.

"Cam confirmed with dental records, but you should ask Angela anyway. She has a big heart. Maybe if she helps us give Gemma's family some closure, she'll be willing to give things a try at the Jeffersonian."

"That's a good idea. I've been trying to appeal to her sense of adventure, but she doesn't find human remains exciting."

"Well, no one's perfect," he grinned.

"Maybe I could help you outside of the lab too," Brennan suggested eagerly. "We already know we make a good team, and I already have a gun-"

"Whoa, whoa… Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Bones. I agree that we'd make a good team, but it might be a little more complicated than that. I'd have to get permission to take you into the field."

"I can talk to Cullen," she volunteered quickly. "He likes me."

"Yeah, he does, and if anyone can prove their value, it's you… But don't mention the gun."

"Deal." They shared a smile and went back to discussing the case. Booth hadn't considered the possibility of bringing her into the field with him, but the more he thought about it, the more perfect it sounded. He knew that she was cool under pressure, she could defend herself easily, and her impeccable observation skills would serve them well in an investigation. He resolved to bring it up with Cullen the next day, just to test the waters. The worst he could do was say no.

After dinner, they went home to the apartment they shared together. Once they were ready for bed, Brennan set about reorganizing her messenger bag, adding the Arrington file to its contents. Booth sat next to her on the bed and spotted a familiar notebook. It was folded open to reveal a page full of notes on her most recent 'limbo' case, but what caught his attention were the notes in the margins. He'd seen them often enough to know what they were about.

"When are you going to put all of those ideas together and write a book?" he asked with a gentle smile.

"They're just notes," she shrugged, putting her things away.

"Oh, come on. You've been tossing ideas around for months. It sounds like it would be a great book; you should do it. I can't imagine you not succeeding at anything you do, Bones."

"Really?"

"Of course. And you can dedicate it to me," he teased. Brennan laughed and curled up in his arms, her eyes twinkling up at him.

"You certainly think very highly of yourself."

"Yeah…but you think highly of me too." He winked and kissed her forehead. Brennan's expression grew more sincere, and she nodded in agreement.

"Yes, I do," she said, kissing him sweetly. "I love you, Booth."

"I love you too."

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The End!

 **If you loved it, let me know! :)**


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